nt straight to Mason's hut. There was a light inside, but when Bob
knocked there was no answer.

"Go in; don't be afraid,'" he said to his companion.

The stranger pushed open the creaking door, and stood bareheaded just
inside the doorway.

A billy was boiling unheeded on the fire. Mason sat at the table with
his face buried in his arms.

"Father!"

There was no answer, but the flickering of the firelight made the
stranger think he could detect an impatient shrug in Mason's shoulders.

For a moment the stranger paused irresolute, and then stepping up to the
table he laid his hand on Mason's arm, and said gently:

"Father! Do you want another mate?"

But the sleeper did not--at least, not in this world.

AN ECHO FROM THE OLD BARK SCHOOL

It was the first Monday after the holidays. The children had taken their
seats in the Old Bark School, and the master called out the roll as
usual:

"Arvie Aspinall."... "'Es, sir."

"David Cooper."... "Yes, sir."

"John Heegard."... "Yezzer."

"Joseph Swallow."... "Yesser."

"James Bullock."... "Present."

"Frederick Swallow."... "Y'sir."

"James Nowlett."... . (Chorus of "Absent.")

"William Atkins."... (Chorus of "Absent.")

"Daniel Lyons."... "Perresent, sor-r-r."

Dan was a young immigrant, just out from the sod, and rolled his "r's"
like a cock-dove. His brogue was rich enough to make an Irishman laugh.

Bill was "wagging it." His own especial chum was of the opinion that
Bill was sick. The master's opinion did not coincide, so he penned
a note to William's parents, to be delivered by the model boy of the
school.

"Bertha Lambert."... "Yes, 'air."

"May Carey."... "Pesin', sair."

"Rose Cooper."... "Yes, sir."

"Janet Wild."... "Y-y-yes, s-sir."

"Mary Wild."...

A solemn hush fell upon the school, and presently Janet Wild threw her
arms out on the desk before her, let her face fall on them, and sobbed
heart-brokenly. The master saw his mistake too late; he gave his head
a little half-affirmative, half-negative movement, in that pathetic old
way of his; rested his head on one hand, gazed sadly at the name, and
sighed.

But the galoot of the school spoilt the pathos of it all, for, during
the awed silence which followed the calling of the girl's name, he
suddenly brightened up--the first time he was ever observed to do so
during school hours--and said, briskly and cheerfully "Dead--sir!"

He hadn't been able to answer a question cor