“That is right,” he said, quite heartily, “always be beforehand with your duties, Merle; your aunt tells me you have made up your mind to leave us in the morning.  I should have thought the afternoon or early evening would have been better.”

“Oh, no, Uncle Keith,” I exclaimed, and then, oddly enough, I began to laugh, and yet the provoking tears would come to my eyes, for a vision of sundry school domestics arriving towards night with their goods and chattels, and the remembrance of their shy faces in the morning light seemed to evoke a sort of dreary mirth; but to my infinite surprise and embarrassment, Uncle Keith patted me on the shoulder as though I were a child.

“There, there; never mind showing a bit of natural feeling that does you credit; your aunt is fretting herself to death over losing you—­Hir-rumph; and I do not mind owning that the house will be a trifle dull without you; and, of course, a young creature like you must feel it, too.”  And with that he took my hands, awkwardly enough, and began warming them in his own, for they were blue with cold.  If Aunt Agatha had only seen him doing it, and me, with the babyish tears running down my face.

“Why, look here,” continued Uncle Keith, cheerily, with a sort of cricket-like chirp, “we are all as down as possible, just because you are leaving us, and yet you will only be two or three miles away, and any day if you want us we can be with you.  Why, there is no difficulty, really; you are trying your little experiment, and I will say you are a brave girl for venturing on such a brave scheme.  Well, if it does not answer, here is your home, and your own corner by the fireside, and an old uncle ready to work for you.  I can’t say more than that, Merle.”

“Oh, Uncle Keith,” I returned, sobbing remorsefully, “why are you so good to me, when I have always been so ungrateful for your kindness?”

“Nay, nay, we will leave bygones alone,” he answered, a little huskily.  “I never minded your tandrums, knowing there was a good heart at the bottom.  I only wished I was not such a dry old fellow, and that you could have been fonder of me.  Perhaps you will understand me better some day, and——­” Here he stopped and cleared his throat, and said “hir-rumph” once or twice, and then I felt a thin crackling bit of paper underneath my palm.  “It will buy you something useful, my dear,” he finished, getting up in a hurry.  A five-pound note, and he had lost so much money and had to do without so many comforts!  Who can wonder that I jumped up and gave him a penitent hug.

It was long before I slept that night, and my first waking thoughts the next morning were hardly as pleasant as usual.  A premonitory symptom of homesickness seized me as I glanced round my little room in the dim, winter light.  Aunt Agatha had made it so pretty; but here a certain suspicious moisture stole under my eyelids, and I gave myself a resolute shake, and commenced my toilet in a business-like way that chased away gloomy thoughts.