Even your great-great-grandmother's prayers must
count for something in your behalf. I remember that Alexander Macklin
planted an apple orchard after he was eighty years old. He never
lived to gather even its first harvest, but you have been enjoying it
all your life. He did a thousand unrecorded kindnesses that brought
him no returns seemingly, but 'bread cast upon the waters' does come
back after many days, my boy, every time. And you will be eating the
results of that scattering all your life. The little that I may be
able to do for you will only be the result of kindness he showed me,
and which I could not repay, but am glad now to pass it on to his
grandson. Don't grow bitter because of your father, and say that fate
has handicapped you. That admission of itself will sap your courage
and go far toward defeating you. Say, instead, '_The Eternal
Goodness_ will more than compensate for the evil that this one man
has wrought me.' Then go on, trusting in that, and win in spite of
everything. The harder the struggle the more praise to the victor,
you know."

The whistle of the approaching train brought his little sermon to a
close, and, seizing his satchel, he started hurriedly to the door.
"I'll see the manager in a few days," he continued, hurriedly. "I
have only a few stops to make this time on my way to Salesbury.
Probably I'll have something definite to write you the last of the
week. Good-bye and good luck to you!" He shook hands heartily, swung
himself up on the platform, and disappeared into the car.

Philippa was waiting in the hammock with a shawl over her head when
Alec returned. The moonlight nights were chilly, but she could not
bear to go inside until she heard the result of their conversation.

"Oh, Alec," she exclaimed, as he came up wide awake and glowing from
his walk and his hopeful interview, "wasn't it just like a lovely
story to have the traditional uncle drop down long enough to restore
the family fortunes and then disappear again?"

"Yes, you're a good prophet," he laughed. "I drifted on to my island
when I least expected it, and in the middle of my darkest night.
Salesbury is four hundred miles from here, Flip, and we sha'n't see
each other often, so if it will be any comfort to you, you may say,
'I told you so,' three times a day, from now on until I leave."

CHAPTER III.

Philippa, coming home from school one afternoon, late in September,
loitered at the gate for a few more words