“Yes; something has happened which I have not mentioned to a soul, and shall not, except to you. Since poor Digby’s death, I have lost my overcoat. I wore it on that cold Sunday night, and afterward hung it up in my room. I should not have missed it, but that I had left in the pocket my Bible—you remember the one, it was given to me by my father when I first left home for school. I have searched everywhere for the coat, and cannot find it. It is a great loss to me, for I would have parted with anything else in the world rather than lose that Bible.”
“Have you not mentioned it to my uncle?” asked Martin, his face taking on a sharper look.
“No; he is worried and sad as it is, and I hate the idea of reflecting upon fellows in the school. It will turn up in time, perhaps, but I can’t help thinking that there must be some thief in the school, and that the coat has gone where the miniature went.”
“I really think it would be well to tell the Doctor,” said Martin.
“Well, I may do so yet; but we break up next week, and if the truth should not be discovered, every boy will leave with a suspicion resting upon him,—for this is not confined to the twenty,—and it will do the school a great injury. But I tell it to you, Martin, because as I shall not return after this term, you know, you can keep your eyes open in case anything should turn up about it.”
“What a wretched break-up we are having, altogether!” said Martin, after a little pause, in which he was thinking whether to take Howard’s view of the case, or to still persuade him to make the matter known. “A break-up of Mr. Morton’s home; a break-up of the Doctor’s health, I fear, for all this anxiety has distressed him sadly; and a break-up of our little fraternity here, for now that you are going, and Digby gone, and Aleck Fraser is on the move, our ‘set’ will never be made up again. I hope, though, that our friendship will not be broken up.”
“It never shall, if I can help it,” said Howard; “and now while we are talking about it, will you promise to write to me, and tell me all about the school, as long as you stay in it, and about the Doctor, and Mrs. Brier, and especially all about yourself?”
The promise was duly made, and unlike many promises of a similar nature, was faithfully fulfilled.
The day before the breaking up, Dr. Brier asked Howard to speak with him in the library.
“My dear Howard,” said the Doctor, putting his hand on his shoulder, “I cannot let you leave the school without telling you how deeply I regret parting with you. Your conduct has always been exemplary, and your influence beneficial in the school. I am sorry that the clouds have gathered round us so darkly lately, but some day we shall see through them, if we cannot at present. I want you to know that throughout, I consider you to have held a manly and a Christian course, and you have my unqualified approval of your conduct, as you have my sincere belief in the uprightness and integrity of your character. God bless you, my dear lad, wherever you go, and make those principles which have distinguished you in your school-life, useful to the world, in whatever part of it your lot may be cast! And now I wish to give you this little present, as a token of friendship, and let it serve as a reminder to you, that as long as I live, I shall be glad and thankful to serve you.”