his father's side, and thought that even he would soon be far away,
it made him feel inclined to cling more closely to him than he had ever
done before; so that, when the jolting of the train made his head knock
against his father's shoulder, he let it stay there, and presently he
found his father's strong arm was around him, and Arthur felt that he
loved him more than he had ever done before.

"Cheer up, Arthur, my boy," he heard him say presently, and his voice had
a softer sound, than it sometimes had, he thought. "We may all be very
happy yet some day together, and not very long, you know. Five years soon
pass, you know, Arthur."

But five years had a very long, dreary sound to him just then. In fact, he
could not bear to think of it at all; and he was afraid that if he thought
or spoke on the subject, that he should cry, which he did not wish to do
just then; so he gave a very deep, long sigh.

By and by he went to sleep. Perhaps it was because he had spent several
waking hours the night before, and that this day had been a dinnerless one
for him; but so it was, and when he awoke it was to a scene of confusion
and bustle, for they had arrived at their journey's end, and the guard was
calling aloud, "Oldbridge."

Arthur rubbed his sleepy eyes, as the station lights flashed brightly, and
the train came to a sudden stop. "Come, Arthur, my boy, here we are. Make
haste and open your eyes. We have a drive before us, so you will have time
to wake up on the way to your aunt's," said Mr. Vivyan, as they threaded
their way along the crowded platform.

It was a very dark night; there was no moon, and thick clouds shut out the
starlight. Oldbridge station stood at the extreme end of the town, and in
order to reach Myrtle Hill, they must drive along a country road of two
or three miles. In summer time this was a very pleasant way, for the trees
sheltered it on one side, while the other was bordered with a hedgerow and
wide-spreading fields; but now on this dark night, nothing of all this was
seen, and Arthur wondered what kind of a place they were passing through.
When he had made little pictures in his mind of their arrival at
Oldbridge, they had not been at all what the reality was. He had imagined
a drive through a busy town, where they would pass through street after
street, and that the bright gas would light the way, and show him the
place and the things that they passed.

"What kind of a place are we in, father?" as