promising to return in fifteen or twenty
minutes.

The air was so fine that Mrs. Curtis preferred to sit in the carriage,
which she could easily do as the hostler stood at the horses' heads.

The children were chatting gayly when a loud geeing was heard; and
presently an ox-team was seen slowly approaching from the direction of
the granite quarry.

"Oh, mamma!" said Bertie greatly excited, "there's Mr. Cahart. I do
hope he will stop and speak to me. I want to know why his son did not
come to Woodlawn as he promised."

The child leaned as far as he could from the carriage, hoping to
attract attention; but the man did not once glance toward him. His
face looked very sober, as if his heart were sore.

Just as the great load of granite was opposite the carriage Bertie
shouted in an excited tone:

"Mr. Cahart! Oh, Mr. Cahart! Please stop! I want to see you!"

Mrs. Curtis was surprised at the effect of her son's voice on the man.
He started, gazed about him, and then spying the little fellow in the
carriage, came quickly toward them, seizing the small hand Bertie so
cordially held out, and exclaiming with great energy:

"Aye, aye, boy, I'm powerful glad to see you!"

"This is my mamma," explained Bertie. "We came to pay Mr. Fuller's
bill, and I hoped I should see you somewhere; but why didn't you let
your son come to see us?"

Mr. Cahart's face worked convulsively. For a moment he seemed unable
to articulate one word; but presently recovering himself he said, with
a gasp:

"I've never set eyes on that boy since."

"Why, I'm so sorry, where is he?"

"Run off."

"Oh, dear! how could he do so?"

"Did you never find where he had gone?" inquired Mrs. Curtis in a
deeply sympathizing tone.

"I followed him to the city, ma'am, found he'd sailed the morning
before, in company with one of his mates, the worst boy in town."

The last words were accompanied by a groan.

"Where was the vessel bound?" asked the lady.

"For the West Indies, ma'am. She's due next week; but I'm afeard that
during the voyage my boy has learned nothing but wickedness in
company with those rough, swearing sailors."

Mrs. Curtis thought this so probable that she could not think of a
word to comfort the poor father's heart, and Bertie could only gaze
sorrowfully in his face.

The man turned away, and made a step towards his oxen, but then came
back and said abruptly:

"I never shall forget your boy, ma'am. His words led me to the Bib