"Stop, stop!" cried Mr. Keane. "Wait till I hint at such a thing. You have surpassed my expectations, my boy. I thought you would like to see your sister, but if I am mistaken—"
"I do want to go, sir; I would give the world almost to see her—but—"
"Well?"
"The expense, sir," Tom ventured to say, encouraged by his kind friend's manner. "It is a long journey, and I have cost you so much already."
"Nonsense; I am a rich man, Tom. But for all that I expect you to pay me back some day. You and I will have a great reckoning by-and-by."
There was a moment's silence.
"How did you know I wanted to go home, Mr. Keane?" said Tom by-and-by.
"I have eyes, my boy," was all Mr. Keane answered, saying nothing of a note he had received from his sister, which ran thus:—
RED HOUSE, April 27th.
DEAR ROBERT,—Send Tom to Thankful Rest for a few days. Lucy will get well twice as fast after she sees him.—Your affectionate sister,
ALICE.
Next morning saw a very happy boy take his place in the train, which would land him at Pendlepoint in the evening. It was a long, tiresome journey, especially to an impatient being like Tom. But it came to an end, as all things pleasant or unpleasant must, and he found himself at the little old-fashioned depot towards seven o'clock at night. There was no one to meet him, of course, because no one, not even Miss Keane, expected him so soon. He ran all the way to the parsonage, and knocked at the door, only to find Abbie in sole possession.