might say farewell to as many as were willing
that he should do so. Some gave him their hands with prompt good will,
some avoided him, some turned their backs upon him altogether.

But if his reception in the refectory was chilling, his welcome in the
courtyard was warm enough. At the first sound of his footsteps on the
paved way the dog came from his quarters under the sycamore. One moment
the creature stood and looked at him with its sad and bloodshot eyes;
then, with a bound, it threw its fore paws on his breast, and then
plunged around him and uttered deep bays that were like the roar of
thunder.

He sat on the seat and caressed the dog, and his heart grew full and
happy. The morning was bright with sunshine, the air was fragrant with
the leafage of spring, and birds were singing and rejoicing in the tree.

Presently Brother Andrew came and sat beside him. The lay brother, like a
human dog, had been following him about all the morning, and now in his
feeble way he began to talk of his mother, and to wonder if John would
ever see her. Her name was Pincher, and she was a good woman. She lived
in Crook Lane, Crown Street, Soho, and kept house for his brother, who
was a pawnbroker. But his brother, poor fellow! was much given to drink,
and perhaps that had been a reason why he himself had left home. John
promised to call on her, and then Brother Andrew began to cry. The
sprawling features of the great fellow were almost laughable to look
upon.

The bell rang for Terce. While the brothers were at prayers, John took
his last look over the house. With the dog at his heels--the old thing
seemed determined to lose sight of him no more--he passed slowly through
the hall and into the community room and up the stairs and down the top
corridor. He looked again at every inscription on the walls, though he
knew them all by heart and had read them a hundred times. When he came to
his own cell he was touched by a strange tenderness. Place where he had
thought so much, prayed so much, suffered so much--it was dear to him,
after all! He went up on to the tower. How often he had been drawn there
as by a devilish fascination! The great city looked innocent enough now
under its mantle of sunlight, dotted over with green, but how dense, how
difficult! Then the bell rang for midday service, though it was not yet
noon, and he went down to the hall. The brothers were there preparing to
go into the church. The order of the procession was