"You are to come home with us to tea, doctor," said the judge.
Jenny was watching, and flew out to meet them. Returning her kiss of welcome, Duncan said,—
"If you please, father, I'll run up to my room before I go into the parlour."
"Certainly; but don't be long. I presume tea is waiting."
The boy ran up-stairs, pushed open the door of his room, and was inside before he noted the strangeness of everything—that is, almost everything. There was his familiar motto at the foot of the bed, and some other familiar personal belongings. But there was fresh paper on the walls, new curtains at the windows, and in place of the old torn matting on the floor, there was a carpet soft to the foot and warm in colours, an easy chair, and under the gas-light, a small table with crimson cover, and upon it a handsomely-bound copy of the Book. A note lay beside it, which he picked up. It ran thus:—
"Mother and Jenny have been very happy in refitting the room for our dear Dunny. We hope he may be as happy in it. Here you can bring your friends for quiet visits, or come alone for communion with the Friend who is above and beyond any other friend."
Duncan whistled.
"Well, now, that is nice; but I didn't suppose she cared anything about that Friend. I thought folks who did showed it, and I never saw her at church in the world. Well, I promised Dr. Myers that I would try and make the best of it, and I am going to. This is a jolly room, anyway!" As he turned to go down, his eye fell upon a little photograph of herself which Mabel had given him some time before, and he sighed, "If it had only been her now!"
In the parlour, Judge McNair had said, "We have got our boy back again, and that must do for tonight. Some other time the doctor may tell his story."
And they were chatting of other things when Duncan entered. Rising and passing his arm around him, his father said,—