of it the better it would be for him.

And John Broom, who never let a cry escape him at the time, would steal
away afterwards and sob out his grief into the long soft coat of the
sympathising sheep dog.

Unfortunately he never tried the effect of deserving better treatment as
a remedy for his woes. The parson's good advice and Miss Betty's
entreaties were alike in vain. He was ungrateful even to Thomasina. The
little ladies sighed and thought of the lawyer. And the parson preached
patience.

"Cocky has been tamed," said Miss Kitty thoughtfully, "perhaps John
Broom will get steadier by-and-by."

"It seems a pity we can't chain him to a perch, Miss Kitty," laughed the
parson; "he would be safe then, at any rate."

Miss Betty said afterwards that it did seem so remarkable that the
parson should have made this particular joke on this particular
night--the night when John Broom did not come home.

He had played truant all day. The farm-bailiff had wanted him, and he
had kept out of the way.

The wind was from the east, and a white mist rolled in from the sea,
bringing a strange invigorating smell, and making your lips clammy with
salt. It made John Broom's heart beat faster, and filled his head with
dreams of ships and smugglers, and rocking masts higher than the
willow-tree, and winds wilder than this wind, and dancing waves.

Then something loomed through the fog. It was the farm-bailiff's
speckled hat. John Broom hesitated--the thick stick became visible.

Then a cloud rolled between them, and the child turned, and ran, and
ran, and ran coastwards, into the sea mist.

THE SEA.--THE ONE-EYED SAILOR.--THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD.

John Broom was footsore when he reached the coast, but that keen,
life-giving smell had drawn him on and held him up. The fog had cleared
off, and he strained his black eyes through the darkness to see the sea.

He had never seen it--that other world within this, on which one lived
out of doors, and climbed about all day, and no one blamed him.

When he did see it, he thought he had got to the end of the world. If
the edge of the cliff were not the end, he could not make out where the
sky began; and if that darkness were the sea, the sea was full of stars.

But this was because the sea was quiet and reflected the colour of the
night sky, and the stars were the lights of the herring-boats twinkling
in the bay.

When he got down by the water he saw the vessels lying alongsid