ed him. Old Angus
would be so comforted to think that his boy's last act was giving a
helping hand on the Jericho Road. But his horse was impatient, and
Peter had already turned in at his own gate and was plunging through
the snow to his house. A bottle was sticking out of his pocket.
Evidently he intended to make a night of it. The sight of it made the
young man change his mind. There was no use, as he had so often said,
bothering with Peter Fiddle. He was determined to drink himself to
death and he would.

Roderick let his horse go and went spinning down the road. Then he
realised that he had given his arm a wrench, when he had pulled his
horse out of Peter's way. The pain in it grew intense for a few
moments. He resolved that as soon as he was settled at his new work he
would have it attended to. It was the relic of his old rainbow
expedition and though it had annoyed him only at intervals it had never
ceased to remind him that there was trouble there for him some future
day.

He had another hard parting to face, but one with hope in it for the
future. When he tied his horse at the school gate and went in he was
wondering how he would tell Helen how much the farewell meant to him.
For he was determined that she must know. The school was quiet, for
the hour for dismissing had not come. As he entered the hall, Madame
came swaying out of Miss Murray's room with a group of cherubs peeping
from behind her. "Now you, Johnnie Pickett," she was saying, "you just
come and tell me if anybody's bad and I'll fix them." Then she saw
Roderick, and greeted him with a rapturous smile.

"There's a dear boy," she cried, "to come and say good-bye to your old
teacher. Now, you Johnnie Pickett, what are you following me out here
for? Aren't you to watch the room for Miss Murray? Go on back. Well,
and you are really going this afternoon?" she said, turning to her
visitor again. "And how is your father standing it? What's the matter
now?"

A small youngster with blazing eyes shot from the room and launched
himself upon her.

"Please, teacher," he cried, his voice shrill with wrath, "them kids,
they won't mind me at all. Dutchy Scott's makin' faces, and the girls
is talkin', an' Pie-face Hurd he's calling names. He said I was a
nigger!" His blue eyes and white hair belied the accusation, but his
voice rose to a scream at the indignity. Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby
marched the deposed monitor hack to the room to