n these uncongenial surroundings for a space of
time that seemed like an eternity to a lad of fourteen; to be
forced to remain with these unsympathetic companions for the next
four or five years, with no one to turn to and without a home,
meant desolation as complete for Eustace as for Nesta.

Away in the park some rooks cawed fussily over the choice of their
night quarters. Nearer, a blackbird piped an evening song. They
sounded restless and plaintive to the lonely boy, and he hid his
face in his hands, covering eyes and ears that he might see
nothing, hear nothing. Then into his mind there surged a
recollection of the dear old free days at home, never to come
again. Right in the midst of every memory stood Bob--his friend Bob
whom he would never see again. That was the thought that broke his
spirit, and had he been a girl he would have cried; but Eustace
shed no tears--this sorrow was beyond them, for a boy.

Something hard suddenly struck him with a sharp tap on the
shoulder, and, as he started back in surprise, fell with a clatter
back on the gravel below.

Then Eustace gasped, rubbed his eyes, and stared, feeling as if he
must suddenly have taken leave of his senses; for there in the
drive, his hand poised ready to throw another stone if the first
had missed its mark, stood Bob Cochrane.

CHAPTER XX.

BREAKING THE NEWS.

Before the boy had recovered sufficiently to make a sound, Bob said
in a low, distinct voice,--

"Don't make a row, old man. It's all right; I'm not a ghost. I want
you to get hold of your father for me without a soul knowing that
you have seen me. Tell him I am waiting by the first drive gate,
and want to speak to him at once. Mind no one else hears what you
say. Seeing you is better luck than I expected."

He turned and was walking rapidly away across the centre grass plot
before Eustace quite realized this was no dream, but a solid truth,
and that something was required of him.

"Bob, Bob, how have you come here?" he called in a trembling voice.

But the figure only half turned with a warning gesture, and passed
resolutely on.

For a moment the boy was rooted to the spot. Was this thing real?
Could Bob possibly be there? The idea was incredible; yet his eyes,
his ears, both bore witness to the fact. But how had it happened?
what did it mean?

With thoughts in a turmoil and heart beating to suffocation, he
made his way to his father's dressing-room.

"I say, father," he