ectful nod. He left the room, and the boys turned and looked at
each other. Donal's countenance expressed an indignant sense of
wrong, but Gibbie's revealed a more profound concern. He stood
motionless, intent on the receding steps of the minister. The
moment the sound of them ceased, he darted soundless after him.
Donal, who from Mr. Sclater's reply had understood what Gibbie had
written, was astonished, and starting to his feet followed him. By
the time he reached the door, Gibbie was past the second lamp, his
shadow describing a huge half-circle around him, as he stole from
lamp to lamp after the minister, keeping always a lamp-post still
between them. When the minister turned a corner, Gibbie made a
soundless dart to it, and peeped round, lingered a moment looking,
then followed again. On and on went Mr. Sclater, and on and on went
Gibbie, careful constantly not to be seen by him; and on and on went
Donal, careful to be seen of neither. They went a long way as he
thought, for to the country boy distance between houses seemed much
greater than between dykes or hedges. At last the minister went up
the steps of a handsome house, took a key from his pocket, and
opened the door. From some impulse or other, as he stepped in, he
turned sharp round, and saw Gibbie.

"Come in," he said, in a loud authoritative tone, probably taking
the boy's appearance for the effect of repentance and a desire to
return to his own bed.

Gibbie lifted his cap, and walked quietly on towards the other end
of Daur-street. Donal dared not follow, for Mr. Sclater stood
between, looking out. Presently however the door shut with a great
bang, and Donal was after Gibbie like a hound. But Gibbie had
turned a corner, and was gone from his sight. Donal turned a corner
too, but it was a wrong corner. Concluding that Gibbie had turned
another corner ahead of him, he ran on and on, in the vanishing hope
of catching sight of him again; but he was soon satisfied he had
lost him,--nor him only, but himself as well, for he had not the
smallest idea how to return, even as far as the minister's house.
It rendered the matter considerably worse that, having never heard
the name of the street where he lodged but once--when the minister
gave direction to the porter, he had utterly forgotten it. So there
he was, out in the night, astray in the streets of a city of many
tens of thousands, in which he had never till that day set
foot--never before ha