e tray of cake and wine! Now pause on that before I say any
more. What about their eyes? Did they swim? What about their hearts;
did they flutter? Did Polly blush? Did Joe's bronzed face shine? Ah,
it all took place, and much more than I could tell in a whole volume.
The vicar did not perceive it, for luckily he was looking out of the
window. It only took a moment to place the tray on the table, and the
fairy disappeared. But that moment, not then considered as of so much
importance, exciting as it was, stamped the whole lives of two beings,
and who can tell whether or no such a moment leaves its impress on
Eternity?

All good and all kind was the old vicar; and how attentively he listened
with Mrs. Goodheart to the eye-witness of England's great deeds! And
then--no, he did not give Joe a claptrap maudlin sermon, but treated him
as a man subject to human frailties, and, only hoped in all his career he
would remember some of the things he had been taught at the Sunday
School.

"Ay," said Joe, "ay, sir, and the best lesson I ever larned, and what
have done me most good, be the kindness I always had from you."

So they parted, and a day or two after, strangely enough, just as Joe was
walking along by the old Oak that is haunted, and which the owls and the
ghosts occupy between them, who should come down the lane in the opposite
direction but Polly Sweetlove! Where she came from was the greatest
mystery in the world! And it was so extraordinary that Joe should meet
her: and he said so, as soon as he could speak.

"Now look at that! Whoever would have thought of meeting anybody here?"

Polly hung down her head and blushed. Neither of them knew what to say
for a long time; for Joe was not a spokesman to any extent. At last
Polly Sweetlove broke silence and murmured in the softest voice, and I
should think the very sweetest ever heard in this world:

"Are you going away soon, Joe?"

"Friday," answered the young Hussar.

Ah me! This was Wednesday already; to-morrow would be Thursday, and the
next day Friday! I did not hear this, but I give you my word it took
place.

"Are you coming to see the Vicar again?" asked the sweet voice.

"No," said Joe.

They both looked down at the gnarled roots of the old tree--the roots did
stick out a long way, and I suppose attracted their attention--and then
Polly just touched the big root with her tiny toe. And the point of that
tiny toe touched Joe's heart too, w