ent from a finer world. I am at times sore at loss----"

"Thou must believe in a kindly All-father and the eyes of thy inner soul
will be opened."

Then she would kiss him tenderly and he would go away much puzzled.

Presently an incident happened that caused them both no little
perplexity. The Nevitt estate had lost its direct heir, and that of Leah
Nevitt was next in succession, after an old great-uncle, who sent for
the boy to be brought up in English ways and usages. Sir Wyndham Nevitt
was not a Friend, though several branches of the family were. And if
Philemon Henry failed, the next heir was a dissolute fellow up in
London, who would soon make ducks and drakes of the fine old estate.

"It does seem a pity that it should be destroyed," said the young wife.
"If only the boy were old enough to choose! But, you see, he is next in
the succession, and it would come to him even if he were here. English
laws are curious. I should hate to give up the boy. He is a sweet child
and a great comfort to me when thou art away. But his welfare ought to
be considered."

"And thou dost spoil him every hour in the day. I should have to send
him away presently for some sterner training. And then"--she blushed
scarlet at the hope--"there may be other sons and daughters."

Friend Henry took counsel of several respected and judicious men, and
the weight of it lay with sending the child abroad. It would be a hard
wrench, but if he was called upon to do it? Many that he knew had sent
their children abroad for education, the advantages being limited at
home. And it was true that the settlers below New York had a much warmer
affection for the mother country than the Puritans of New England.

It ended by little Philemon Henry being sent abroad with many tears and
much reluctance, and a safe convoy. The boy went quite readily, under
the impression that he could come back frequently, and having no idea of
the length of the journey, but being an adventurous little fellow.

Bessy Henry sorrowed deeply. "The house was as if one had been buried
out of it," she said. Then her own baby was born.

Philemon Henry was disappointed that it should be a girl.

"Do not mind, husband," she said in her winsome way, "this shall be _my_
child, for its head is full of yellow fuzz like mine, and its eyes are
blue. Presently there will be a son with dark eyes, and no doubt a
houseful of sons and daughters," laughing merrily. "And Phil, I think,
will be b