ind from these sad thoughts, Paul told him some of
the latest exploits of Plunger, winding up with his recent discovery of
him under the bed in his dormitory. Hibbert was amused and interested.

"Plunger's a funny lot. He makes me smile to think of him. I hope he's
never worried himself much about that raft accident?"

"Plunger's not the sort of fellow to worry himself much about anything
for long; but he's often asked me about you."

"I was thinking a good deal about what happened on the raft last night.
I could not sleep for thinking of it; and then, when I went to sleep, I
dreamed--dreamed that my mother was standing by me all in white. She was
smiling down at me, and held out her arms to me. I tried to get to her,
and in trying to get to her I awoke. Do you know, I was so disappointed!
The dream was better than the awaking. I so wished my mother had lived,
for then you would have known her, Paul. I'm sure you would have liked
her, and that she would have liked you. But perhaps it is best as it
is."

"I'm sure it's for the best, though it seems hard to say so. Everything
is for the best, Hibbert. We don't see it, because we're only blind
people leading the blind. But God sees, and God knows. That's what my
mother has told me so often that I've never forgotten it. It has helped
me a lot--more than I can tell you. You've talked about your mother, let
me tell you a little about my own."

And Paul talked to Hibbert about his own mother. The boy listened
eagerly, with one hand resting in Paul's, a smile upon his lips.
Suddenly he drew a deep sigh of content; the fragile head fell back upon
the chair; the hand in Paul's grew suddenly cold.

Paul looked into the boy's face. The smile still hovered about his lips,
but he saw something in the face he had never seen there before.

"Hibbert!" he cried. But there was no response.

Paul gently withdrew his hand and ran to the house. He met Sedgefield,
and sent him for the nurse, while he hurried back to Hibbert.

The little fellow was still lying back in the chair. A wren had perched
itself lovingly upon his shoulder, but Hibbert knew nothing of its
presence. He was fast asleep--in the long, last sleep that knows no
waking.

CHAPTER XLV

HOW THE VOTE WAS CARRIED

Hibbert's death caused a lull in the storm that recent events had raised
at Garside. Notwithstanding his illness, it was thought that he was
getting better. It came, therefore, with a shock to the s