restore order,
explaining volubly that it was quite as wicked a crime to call a boy
Pie-face as for that boy to call one a nigger.

"I've got Miss Murray's room in charge," she said, returning to
Roderick smiling and breathless. "Go on back there, now! I see you
looking out there, you, Jimmie Hurd. Just wait till I catch you!"

"She isn't sick, is she?" asked Roderick dismayed.

"No. Oh, no! She went with a crowd of young folks to a tea-meeting at
Arrow Head. They started early, and I made her run home an hour before
the time to bundle up. Now, Johnnie Pickett, leave that chalk alone!
You don't need to think I don't see you--"

Roderick went on his journey miserably disappointed. She had gone on a
sleigh ride and she must have known, indeed she did know, he intended
to call and say good-bye to her. Each farewell had been harder than
the last and now this absence of farewell was the hardest of all.
There was one more--Lawyer Ed's. Like Old Angus, he was making an
attempt at cheerfulness that was heartbreaking. He tramped about,
singing loudly, scolding every one who came near him, and proclaiming
his joy over the Lad's going in a manner that drove poor Roderick's
sore heart to desperation. He drove with him to the station, carried
his bag on board, loaded him with books and magazines and bade him a
joyful farewell, with not a word of regret. But he gave way as the
train moved out and Roderick saw him hastily wipe his eyes and as he
looked back for one last glimpse of his beloved figure, the Lad saw
Lawyer Ed move slowly away, showing for the first time in his life the
signs of approaching age.

That night Old Angus sat late over his kitchen fire. He was mentally
following the Lad. He was in Toronto now; later, on the way to
Montreal, lying asleep in his berth probably. Old Angus's faith
forbade his doubting that God's hand was in his boy's departure. But
the remembrance of all his joyous plans on the day the Lad started in
Algonquin persisted in coming up to haunt him. He sat far into the
night trying to reason himself back into his former cheerfulness. The
storm had risen anew, and gusts of wind came tearing up from the lake,
lashing the trees and shaking the old house. The snow beat with a
soft, quick pad-pad upon the window-pane. Occasionally the jingle of
bells came to him muffled in the snow. Finally, he heard a new sound,
some one singing. It was probably a sleigh-load of young folk
ret