the postman's not having gone there. They had heard
that the Australian mail was in. Not that he was actuated by any strong
paternal feelings--such sentiments did not prey upon Mr. Roy. The
hearing or the not hearing from his son would not thus have disturbed
his equanimity. He took it for granted that Luke was alive
somewhere--probably getting on--and was content to wait until himself or
a letter should turn up. The one whom he had been expecting to hear from
was his new master, Mr. Massingbird. He had fondly indulged the hope
that credential letters would arrive for him, confirming him in his
place of manager; he believed that this mail would inevitably bring
them, as the last mails had not. Hence he had stayed at home to receive
the postman. But the postman had not come, and it gave Roy a pain in his
temper.

"They be a-coming back, that's what it is," was the conclusion he
arrived at, when his disappointment had a little subsided. "Perhaps they
might have come by this very ship! I wonder if it brings folks as well
as letters?"

"I know he must be dead!" sobbed Mrs. Roy.

"He's dead as much as you be," retorted Roy. "He's a-making his fortune,
and he'll come home after it--that's what Luke's a-doing. For all you
know he may be come too."

The words appeared to startle Mrs. Roy; she looked up, and he saw that
her face had gone white with terror.

"Why! what _does_ ail you?" cried he, in wonder. "Be you took crazy?"

"I don't want him to come home," she replied in an awe-struck whisper.
"Roy, I don't want him to."

"You don't want to be anything but a idiot," returned Roy, with supreme
contempt.

"But I'd like to hear from him," she wailed, swaying herself to and fro.
"I'm always a-dreaming of it."

"You'll just dream a bit about getting the dinner ready," commanded Roy
morosely; "that's what you'll dream about now. I said I'd have biled
pork and turnips, and nicely you be a-getting on with it. Hark ye! I'm
a-going now, but I shall be in at twelve, and if it ain't ready, mind
your skin!"

He swung open the kitchen door just in time to hear the church bells
burst out with a loud and joyous peal. It surprised Roy. In quiet
Deerham, such sounds were not very frequent.

"What's up now?" cried Roy savagely. Not that the abstract fact of the
bells ringing was of any moment to him, but he was in a mood to be angry
with everything. "Here, you!" continued he, seizing hold of a boy who
was running by, "what be the