elieved to find
them.

"We thought you'd run away from us," explained Bab, as both put out
their hands to shake those extended to them.

"That would be a mean trick. But I'm going to run away with you," and
Mr. Brown whisked a little girl to either shoulder before they knew what
had happened, while Ben, remembering the day, with difficulty restrained
himself from turning a series of triumphant somersaults before them all
the way to the door, where Mrs. Moss stood waiting for them.

After breakfast Ben disappeared for a short time, and returned in his
Sunday suit, looking so neat and fresh that his father surveyed him with
surprise and pride as he came in full of boyish satisfaction in his trim
array.

"Here's a smart young chap! Did you take all that trouble just to go to
walk with old Daddy?" asked Mr. Brown, stroking the smooth head, for
they were alone just then, Mrs. Moss and the children being up stairs
preparing for church.

"I thought may be you'd like to go to meeting first," answered Ben,
looking up at him with such a happy face that it was hard to refuse any
thing. "I'm too shabby, Sonny, else I'd go in a minute to please you."

"Miss Celia said God didn't mind poor clothes, and she took me when I
looked worse than you do. I always go in the morning; she likes to have
me," said Ben, turning his hat about as if not quite sure what he ought
to do.

"Do you want to go?" asked his father in a tone of surprise.

"I want to please her, if you don't mind. We could have our tramp this
afternoon."

"I haven't been to meeting since mother died, and it don't seem to come
easy, though I know I ought to, seeing I'm alive and here," and Mr.
Brown looked soberly out at the lovely autumn world as if glad to be in
it after his late danger and pain.

"Miss Celia said church was a good place to take our troubles, and to be
thankful in. I went when I thought you were dead, and now I'd love to go
when I've got my Daddy safe again."

No one saw him, so Ben could not resist giving his father a sudden hug,
which was warmly returned as the man said earnestly,--

"I'll go, and thank the Lord hearty for giving me back my boy better'n I
left him!"

For a minute nothing was heard but the loud tick of the old clock and a
mournful whine front Sancho, shut up in the shed lest he should go to
church without an invitation.

Then, as steps were heard on the stairs, Mr. Brown caught up his hat,
saying hastily,--

"I ain't