n the avenue, and Taffy headed for the Parsonage,
across the towans. Ordinarily this road at night would have been
full of terrors for him; but now the fear at his heels kept him
going, while his heart thumped on his ribs. He was just beginning to
feel secure, when he blundered against a dark figure which seemed to
rise straight out of the night.

"Hullo!"

Blessed voice! The wayfarer was his own father.

"Taffy! I thought you were home an hour ago. Where on earth have you
been?"

"With Honoria." He was about to say more, but checked himself.
"I left her at the top of the avenue," he explained.

CHAPTER XII.

TAFFY'S CHILDHOOD COMES TO AN END.

The summer passed. There was a talk in the early part of it that the
Bishop would be coming, next spring, to consecrate the restored
church and hold a confirmation service. Taffy and Honoria were to be
confirmed, and early in August Mr. Raymond began to set apart an hour
each day for preparing them. In a week or two the boy's head was
full of religion. He spent much of his time in the church, watching
the carpenter at work upon the new seats; his mind ran on the story
of Samuel, and he wished his mother had followed Hannah's example and
dedicated him to God; he had a suspicion that God would be angry with
her for not doing so.

He did not observe that, as the autumn crept on, a shadow gathered on
Humility's face. One Sunday the old Squire did not come to church;
and again on the next Wednesday, at the harvest festival, Honoria sat
alone in the Tredinnis pew. The shadow was on his mother's face as
he chatted about this on their way home to the Parsonage; but the boy
did not perceive it. He loved his parents, but their lives lay
outside his own, and their sayings and doings passed him like a vain
show. He walked in the separate world of childhood, and it seemed an
enormous world yet, though a few weeks were to bring him abruptly to
the end of it.

But just before he came to the precipice he was given a glimpse of
the real world--and of a world beyond that, far more splendid and
romantic than any region of his dreams.

The children had no lessons during Christmas, or for three weeks
after. On the last morning before the holidays George brought a
letter for Mr. Raymond, who read it, considered for a while, and laid
it among his papers.

"It's an invitation," George announced in a whisper. "I wonder if
he'll let you come."

"Where?" whispered Taf