e not have felt? They had reached their tutor's
house, and, opening his own door, he made an imploring sign to Harry
to enter with him. On the table lay a letter from Margaret, and another
which Harry had written to him from Auckland.

"Oh, Harry, you were with him," he said; "tell me all about him."

And he established himself, with his face hidden on the table,
uttering nothing, except, "Go on," whenever Harry's voice failed in the
narration. When something was said of "all for the best," he burst out,
"He might say so. I suppose one ought to think so. But is not it hard,
when I had nobody but him? And there was Maplewood; and I might have
been so happy there, with him and Margaret."

"They say nothing could have made Margaret well," said Harry.

"I don't care; he would have married her all the same, and we should
have made her so happy at Maplewood. I hate the place! I wish it were at
Jericho!"

"You are captain of the ship now," said Harry, "and you must make the
best of it."

"I can't. It will never be home. Home is with Margaret, and the rest of
them."

"So Alan said he hoped you would make it; and you are just like one of
us, you know."

"What's the use of that, when Captain Gordon will not let me go near
you. Taking me to that abominable Maplewood last Easter, with half the
house shut up, and all horrid! And he is as dry as a stick!"

"The captain!" cried Harry angrily. "There's not a better captain to
sail with in the whole navy, and your brother would be the first to tell
you so! I'm not discharged yet. Hector--you had better look out what you
say!"

"Maybe he is the best to sail with, but that is not being the best to
live with," said the heir of Maplewood disconsolately. "Alan himself
always said he never knew what home was, till he got to your father and
Margaret."

"So will you," said Harry; "why, my father is your master, or whatever
you may call it."

"No, Captain Gordon is my guardian."

"Eh! what's become of the will then?"

"What will?" cried Hector. "Did Alan make one after all?"

"Ay. At Valparaiso, he had a touch of fever; I went ashore to nurse
him, to a merchant's, who took us in for love of our Scottish blood. Mr.
Ernescliffe made a will there, and left it in his charge."

"Do you think he made Dr. May my guardian?"

"He asked me whether I thought he would dislike it, and I told him, no."

"That's right!" cried Hector. "That's like dear old Alan! I shall
get back to the d