he appointed time, Mr. and Mrs. Burton arrived. Being, as yet,
ignorant of the purpose for which their presence was desired, they were
full of conjectures. Miss Jemima received them in the dining-room,
downstairs. The first question they asked related to "Cobbler" Horn's
health. "Was he worse?"

"No," said Miss Jemima; "he is much better. But he wishes to consult you
about a matter of great importance."

Then, upon their protesting that they were in no immediate need of
refreshment, Miss Jemima conducted her visitors upstairs to her brother's
room.

Though "Cobbler" Horn had not been to sleep since the morning, he was
greatly refreshed by the quiet hours he had passed. He turned to greet
Mr. and Mrs. Burton, as they came in.

"This is very good of you," he said, putting out his hand.

Miss Jemima placed chairs for the visitors, and they took their seats
near the bed.

"I think I must sit up," said "Cobbler" Horn.

Miss Jemima helped him to raise himself upon his pillows, and then sat
down on a chair at the opposite side of the bed.

"There now," said "the Golden Shoemaker," "we shall do finely. But,
Jemima, how about our friend, Tommy?"

"He'll be here directly" was the concise reply.

Mr. and Mrs. Burton waited patiently for "Cobbler" Horn to speak. Mrs.
Burton was a shrewd-looking, motherly body; and her husband had the
appearance of a capable and kindly man. They were both conscious of some
curiosity, and even anxiety, with regard to what "Cobbler" Horn might be
about to say. The peculiarity of the situation was that he should have
sent for them both. Perhaps each had some vague prevision of the
communication he was about to make.

"Now, dear friends," he said, at last, "no doubt you will be wondering why
I have sent for you in such a hurry."

Both Mr. Burton and his wife protested that they were always at the
service of Mr. Horn, and expressed the assurance that he would not have
sent for them without good cause.

"Thank you," he said. "I think you will admit that, in this instance, the
cause is as good as can be."

Looking upon the kindly faces of these good Christian people, "Cobbler"
Horn wondered how they would receive the news he would probably have to
impart. He must proceed cautiously. At the same time, he was thankful that
his little lost child--if, indeed, it were so--had been committed by the
great Father to such kindly hands.

"You will not mind, dear friends," he resumed, "if I ask you