th when they had risen and were
standing there again. "It was _you_--to him and me both." And bending
forward to kiss the little face again, she added, "He taught me as much
as he ever learned from me!"

But the words were spoken with difficulty, and Faith did not try any
more.

They stood there till the twilight began to fall, and then turned their
faces homewards with a strange mingling of joy and sorrow in their
hearts. How many times Mr. Linden went there afterwards Faith did not
know--she could only guess.

There was no school for the next two days. Tuesday was white with
snow,--not falling thick upon the ground, but in fine light flakes, and
few people cared to be out. Mr. Linden had been, early in the
morning,--since dinner he had been in his room; and now as it drew
towards three o'clock, he came down and left the house, taking the road
towards that of Jonathan Fax. Other dark figures now appeared from time
to time, bending their steps in the same direction,--some sturdy farmer
in his fearnought coat, or two of the school-boys with their arms round
each other. Then this ceased, and the soft falling snow alone was in
the field.

The afternoon wore on, and the sun was towards the setting, when a
faint reddish tinge began to flush along the western horizon, and the
snowflakes grew thinner. Then, just as the first sunbeams shot through
their cloudy prison, making the snow a mere white veil to their
splendour, the little carriage of Mr. Somers came slowly down the road,
and in it Mr. Somers himself. A half dozen of the neighbouring farmers
followed. Then the little coffin of Johnny Fax, borne by Reuben Taylor
and Sam Stoutenburgh and Phil Davids and Joe Deacon, each cap and left
arm bound with crape; followed by Johnny's two little
classmates--Charles Twelfth and Robbie Waters. Then the chief
mourners--Jonathan Fax and Mr. Linden, arm in arm, and Mr. Linden
wearing the crape badge. After them the whole school, two and two. The
flickering snowflakes fell softly on the little pall, but through them
the sunbeams shot joyously, and said that the child had gone--

"Through a dark stormy night,
To a calm land of light!"--

"Meet again? Yes, we shall meet again,
Though now we part in pain!
His people all
Together Christ shall call,
Hallelujah!"

"Child," said Mrs. Derrick in a choked voice, and wiping her eyes, when
the last one had long passed out of view, "it's good to see him and
Jonat