gedly-clad lad, upon whom they had been obliged to wait, the
previous night.

But then, these sort of people only estimate a gentleman by the
grandeur of his dress, and in the present day it is reasonably to be
expected they make many and serious mistakes.

It was not long before Harry and his father were both seated in the
train that was to carry them to Wilton. A wearisome journey it was,
that hot dusty day, and Harry was very tired, when, about half-past
seven, they reached the nearest station to Wilton, a small town called
Oldwell.

From this place they took a cab and drove to Wilton; and how familiar
it was to them both as they bowled along the leafy summer lanes in the
June twilight, and into the well-remembered village!

By Alan's direction, the cabman drove them to the farm; and there,
having deposited them and their luggage, turned his horse's head, and
departed.

The meeting may easily be imagined. Two years had not made much
difference in the good Mrs Valentine, though that time had done so much
for Harry. And the two years of doubt and anxiety for "her boy," as
she called him, had only increased her affection. But it was a sad,
sad pleasure, this meeting; a sad pleasure this, their return to the
little farm where there had been so much of gladness and so much of
sorrow for them all. And lips quivered, and eyes were red with
starting tears, and scarcely a word was uttered.

While his father wandered from room to room, lingering over each spot
that he associated with her, his dead, loved wife, Harry sat in the
window-seat of the oak-panelled parlour, and, pressing his face against
the glass, looked out across the churchyard, and remembered how he sat
thus on that far-off evening when his father said good-bye for ever to
her who slept yonder near the ivied church-porch.

Presently Alan entered the room, and taking Harry's hand, walked with
him to the churchyard. And there, over the grave carefully, lovingly
tended by Mrs Valentine, they stood, father and son, and not a word was
said. Was not their sorrow too great for words? And, as of old, the
twilight breezes crept in and out among the leaves of the lime-trees,
and round the grey church tower.

The next morning was one of excitement to Harry. There was first a
visit to Mr and Mrs Bromley, who were as delighted as they were
surprised to see the two. And then came the visit to the school.
Never, as long as he lived, did Harry forget that mor