r all," he said to
himself, "and all this studying and getting ready to enter Columbia
College next year, as Uncle says I may, will do well enough _afterward_;
but at present we've something else to attend to."

And, to make a long story not too long and tedious, the end of it was
that one bright spring day, months after that memorable afternoon at
Vanbogen's, Donald, having had many earnest interviews meanwhile,
obtained his uncle's unwilling consent that he should sail alone for
England in the next steamer.

* * * * *

Poor Dorry--glad if Don was glad, but totally ignorant of his
errand--was too amazed at the bare announcement of the voyage to take in
the idea at all.

Lydia, horrified, was morally sure that the boy never would come back
alive.

Sailor Jack, on his sea-legs in an instant, gave his unqualified
approbation of the scheme.

Uncle George, unconvinced but yielding, answered Donald's questions;
agreed that Dorry should be told simply that his uncle was sending him
on important business; allowed him to make copies of letters, lists, and
documents, even trusted some of the long-guarded and precious relics to
his keeping; furnished advice and money, and, in fact, helped him all he
could; then resolved the boy should not go after all; and finally,
holding Dorry's cold hand as they stood a few days later on the crowded
city wharf, bade him good-by and God bless him!

[Illustration: OFF FOR EUROPE.]

CHAPTER XXIX.

AN UNEXPECTED LETTER.

"IT was all so sudden," explained Dorothy to Charity Danby, a few weeks
afterward, in talking over her brother's departure, "that I feel as if I
were dreaming and that Don must soon come and wake me up."

"Strange that he should 'a' been allowed to go all the way to Europe,
alone so--and he barely fifteen yet," remarked Mrs. Danby, who was
ironing Jamie's Sunday frock at the time.

"Donald is nearly sixteen," said Dorry with dignity, "and he went on
important business for Uncle. Didn't Ben go West when he was much
younger than that?"

"Oh, yes, my dear, but then Ben is--different, you know. He's looked out
for himself 'most ever since he was a baby. Now, Ellen Eliza," she
exclaimed, suddenly changing her tone as the tender-hearted one came in
sight, "what in the world are you goin' to do with that lame rabbit you
put in the box there?"

"Cure it, Ma. That's what I'm going to do with it."

"Well, if anybody can, you can, I