“Foy Cometh in the Morning.” 141

Mrs. Cadwallader, Tommy’s grandmother ; and
Tommy himself carried my bundle,and accompanied
me to the top of the lane to meet the little carriage
that was to take Master George to the station.
The good fellow looked the least bit dull when he
had helped me in, and stood alone in the road ; but
Master George brightened him up at once by
bidding him come over and sce me on Sunday, and
with a parting wave and checr from Tommy we
trotted off.

The pleasant sense of passing rapidly through the
air was spoilt to me by the fact that we were going
along the road over which I had passed so very
many times on my way to my master, and which
was so bound up in my mind with the thought of
him that I could hardly believe but that I should
still find him at the end of it. I glanced at Master
George’s face, radiant this morning with happiness,
and wondered for a moment whether, after all—
But no, we came insight of Mr. Hurst’s old lodging,
and there I saw the windows wide open, a hearth-
rug hung out of the sitting-room window, and the
furniture within all in confusion. Evidently they
were preparing for another lodgcr. Master George
was looking the other way, watching some boys at
a game of hockey, and I had to remind myself that
it was an old story to him—all must have been