“Oh, yes; of course,” said Fabian.

“Well, I never have had a whole holiday since I have been in the Watch office; but last night, about half-past ten, after the paper had gone to press, the foreman came to me, paid my wages up to the first of January, and told me that I need not return to the office at midnight after Sunday, but might have leave of absence until Monday morning, so as to have time to go and spend Christmas with my friends if I wished to do so.”

Just then Clarence Rockharrt joined them and said, anxiously: 

“Mother, dear, I think you had better get into the carriage.  It is very bleak out here, and you might take cold.”

Mrs. Rockharrt at once took the arm of her youngest and best-beloved son and let him lead her away to the spot where the comfortable family coach awaited them.

Mr. Fabian started to follow with Cora.

“Come with us to the carriage door, Rule,” said the girl, looking back and stretching her hand out toward the youth.

“Yes!  Come!” added pleasant Mr. Fabian.

Regulas touched his hat and followed.  Fabian put his niece in the seat beside her grandmother, and then turned to the youth and inquired: 

“What are you going to do with yourself to-day?”

“I shall go down to my old home, sir, Mother Scythia’s hut.”

“Oh!  Ah!  Yes; I remember.  You are going to stop there?”

“Yes, sir; but I shall try to see all old friends to-day or to-morrow, and I should like to go to Rockhold to thank all the friends there who have been kind to me, and to tell Mrs. Rockharrt and Miss Cora, who were kindest of all, how I have got on in the city.”

“Certainly!  Certainly, Rule!  Come whenever you like!  And see here!  It is a long, rough road from here to old Scythia’s Roost, which is right on our way to Rockhold.  Sorry we cannot offer you a seat in the carriage but you see there are but four seats and there are already five people to fill them.”

“Oh, sir, I should not expect such a thing,” said the youth.

“But I was about to say if you will mount to a seat beside the coachman, you will be heartily welcome to what used to be my own ‘most favoryte’ perch in my younger days.  And we can set you down at the foot of the path leading up to old Scythia’s hut,” concluded Mr. Fabian.

“Oh, do, Rule!  Please do!” pleaded Cora.

Regulas, with his sturdy independence of spirit, would most likely have declined this favor had not the girl’s beseeching face and voice persuaded him to accept it.

“I thank you very much, sir,” he said, and promptly climbed to the seat.

Three miles down the road the carriage was pulled up at the foot of the highest point of the mountain range, and Rule came down from his perch beside the coachman, stepped up to the carriage window, took off his hat, thanked the occupants for his ride, and then drew a neat, white inch-square parcel from his vest pocket, and holding it modestly, said: