evening, and this made them doubly
lonesome.

One day late in August, Douglas Campbell sailed his boat over to Wolf
Bight to spend the day with his friends and to announce that a week
later he would come for Emily to take her to Fort Pelican, where they
were to connect with the mail boat for St. Johns.

This recalled the near approach of Emily's departure, and the days
that followed passed with amazing rapidity. Emily's new woollen
frock--the first woollen frock she had ever possessed--needed still
some finishing touches. It was to be her Sunday dress--to be worn at
church, where there would be many fine people to see her--and as
pretty as the mother's skill and care could make it.

Then there were the print frocks for everyday wear, to be freshly
laundered and packed with other clothing into a new wooden chest which
her father had made for her; and the innumerable last things to be
done, which kept Emily and her mother in a continuous state of flurry
and excitement.

Quite too soon Emily's last day at home dawned, and, true to his
appointment, Douglas Campbell arrived during the afternoon. He looked
very grand and dignified and altogether unlike himself in his suit of
grey tweed. He wore this suit only on those rare occasions--usually at
intervals of three or four years--when business called him to St.
Johns, and Emily had but once before seen him so strangely attired.

He looked so strange and unnatural--so unlike the good old Douglas
that she loved, in moleskin trousers and pea-jacket or adicky--that
she felt he was somehow different, and that the world was going all
topsy-turvy.

And then for the first time there came to her a full realisation of
the great change that was to take place in her life--that she was
going far from home and into a strange land--that for many, many
months she was to see neither her father nor her mother--that she was
to live among strangers who cared nothing for her--that she would be
separated from those who loved her and all that she held dear in the
world. A great ache came into her heart--the first heart-hunger of the
homesick--and she slipped away behind the curtain to throw herself
upon her little white bed and seek relief in stifled sobs.

Presently as she lay there, weeping quietly to herself, loud
exclamations of hearty welcome from her father and mother as some one
entered the door caused her to sit up and listen. Then she recognised
Tom Black's voice, and heard Bessie