that involuntarily the boy stopped his crying to listen;
then quieter tears dropped slowly, seeming to soothe his pain as they
fell, while the sense of loneliness passed away, and it grew possible to
wait till it was time to go to father in that far-off country lovelier
than golden California.

How long she played Miss Celia never minded; but, when she stole out to
see if Ben had gone, she found that other friends, even kinder than
herself, had taken the boy into their gentle keeping. The wind had sung
a lullaby among the rustling lilacs, the moon's mild face looked through
the leafy arch to kiss the heavy eyelids, and faithful Sancho still kept
guard beside his little master, who, with his head pillowed on his arm,
lay fast asleep, dreaming, happily, that Daddy had come home again.

CHAPTER XI

SUNDAY

Mrs. Moss woke Ben with a kiss next morning, for her heart yearned over
the fatherless lad as if he had been her own, and she had no other way
of showing her sympathy. Ben had forgotten his troubles in sleep; but
the memory of them returned as soon as he opened his eyes, heavy with
the tears they had shed. He did not cry any more, but felt strange and
lonely till he called Sancho and told him all about it, for he was shy
even with kind Mrs. Moss, and glad when she went away.

Sancho seemed to understand that his master was in trouble, and listened
to the sad little story with gurgles of interest, whines of condolence,
and intelligent barks whenever the word "daddy" was uttered. He was
only a brute, but his dumb affection comforted the boy more than any
words; for Sanch had known and loved "father" almost as long and well as
his son, and that seemed to draw them closely together, now they were
left alone.

"We must put on mourning, old feller. It's the proper thing, and
there's nobody else to do it now," said Ben, as he dressed, remembering
how all the company wore bits of crape somewhere about them at 'Melia's
funeral.

It was a real sacrifice of boyish vanity to take the blue ribbon with
its silver anchors off the new hat, and replace it with the dingy black
band from the old one; but Ben was quite sincere in doing this, though
doubtless his theatrical life made him think of the effect more than
other lads would have done. He could find nothing in his limited
wardrobe with which to decorate Sanch except a black cambric pocket. It
was already half torn out of his trousers with the weight of nails,
pebbles,