y unusual expression of feeling for him. His friend at
once understood its significance.

"Tim, my boy, I'm sorry for you. I wish I could split my mother in two
and give you half of her."

"Yes," said Tim, somewhat absently, "it is sad to have not one soul in
the world related to you."

"But there are many who care for you as much as if they were relations,"
said Bob, taking his friend's arm as they approached the house.

"Come along, come along, youngsters," shouted Mr Merryboy from the
window, "the dinner's gettin' cold, and granny's gettin' in a passion.
Look sharp. If you knew what news I have for you you'd look sharper."

"What news, sir?" asked Bob, as they sat down to a table which did not
exactly "groan" with viands--it was too strong for that--but which was
heavily weighted therewith.

"I won't tell you till after dinner--just to punish you for being late;
besides, it might spoil your appetite."

"But suspense is apt to spoil appetite, father, isn't it?" said Tim,
who, well accustomed to the old farmer's eccentricities, did not believe
much in the news he professed to have in keeping.

"Well, then, you must just lose your appetites, for I won't tell you,"
said Mr Merryboy firmly. "It will do you good--eh! mother, won't a
touch of starvation improve them, bring back the memory of old times--
eh?"

The old lady, observing that her son was addressing her, shot forth such
a beam of intelligence and goodwill that it was as though a gleam of
sunshine had burst into the room.

"I knew you'd agree with me--ha! ha! you always do, mother," cried the
farmer, flinging his handkerchief at a small kitten which was sporting
on the floor and went into fits of delight at the attention.

After dinner the young men were about to return to their saw-mill when
Mr Merryboy called them back.

"What would you say, boys, to hear that Sir Richard Brandon, with a
troop of emigrants, is going to settle somewhere in Canada?"

"I would think he'd gone mad, sir, or changed his nature," responded
Bob.

"Well, as to whether he's gone mad or not I can't tell--he may have
changed his nature, who knows? That's not beyond the bounds of
possibility. Anyway, he is coming. I've got a letter from a friend of
mine in London who says he read it in the papers. But perhaps you may
learn more about it in _that_."

He tossed a letter to Bob, who eagerly seized it.

"From sister Hetty," he cried, and tore it open.

The complete