ok cheerful; but the cloud on the
horizon was too large now to be covered with a hand.

When Reginald announced that he had written and accepted the invitation
to Liverpool, there was no jubilation, no eager congratulation.

"What shall we do without you?" said Mrs Cruden.

"It is horrid having to go, mother," said the boy; "but we must make the
best of it. If you look so unhappy, I shall be sorry I ever thought of
it."

His mother tried to smile, and said,--

"Yes, we must try and make the best of it, dear boys; and if we cannot
seem as glad as we should like to be, it's not to be wondered at at
first, is it?"

"I hope you'll get holidays enough now and then to run up," said Horace.

"Oh yes; I don't fancy there'll be much difficulty about that," replied
Reg. "In fact, it's possible I may have to come up now and then on
business."

There was a silence for a few seconds, and then he added rather
nervously,--

"By the way, mother, about the L50. I had intended to ask Mr Richmond
to advance it, although I should have hated to do so. But now, I was
wondering--do you think there would be any objection to taking it out of
our money, and letting it be invested in my name in the Corporation? It
really wouldn't make any difference, for you'd get exactly the same
interest for it as you got through Mr Richmond; and, of course, the
principal would belong to you too."

"I see no objection," said Mrs Cruden. "It's our common stock, and if
we can use it for the common good, so much the better."

"Thanks," said Reginald. "If you wouldn't mind sending a line to Mr
Richmond's clerk to-morrow, he could let me have the cheque to take down
or Monday with me."

The three days that followed were dismal ones for the three Crudens.
There are few miseries like that of an impending separation. We wish
the fatal moment to arrive and end our suspense. We know of a thousand
things we want to say, but the time slips by wasted, and hangs drearily
on our hands. We have not the spirit to look forward, or the heart to
look back. We long to have it all over, and yet every stroke of the
clock falls like a cruel knell on our ears. We long that we could fall
asleep, and wake to find ourselves on the other side of the crisis we
dread.

So it was with the Crudens; and when at last the little trio stood on
the Monday on the platform of Euston Station, all three felt that they
would give anything to have the last few days back again