t Wildtree for a month, and the time was one
of the happiest both of them ever spent. They did nothing exciting.
They read some Aristophanes, and added some new "dodge" to their
wonderful automatic bookcase. They went up Wild Pike one bright
winter's day and had a glorious view from the top. And on the ledge
coming back they sat and rested awhile on a spot they both remembered
well. Julius's grave was not forgotten when they reached the valley
below; and the "J" upon the stone which marks the place to this day was
their joint work for an hour that afternoon.

As for the books, Jeffreys had sprung towards them on his first arrival
as a father springs towards his long-lost family. They were sadly in
want of dusting and arranging, as for a month or two no one had been
near them. On the floor lay the parcels, just as they had arrived from
the sale in Exeter; and altogether Jeffreys had work enough to keep him
busy, not for one month only, but for several. He was not sorry to be
busy. For amid all the happiness and comforts of his new return to life
he had many cares on his mind.

There was Forrester. He had imagined that if he could only find him,
all would be right, the past would be cancelled and his bad name would
never again trouble him. But as he thought of the helpless cripple,
lying there unable to move without assistance, with all his prospects
blighted and his very life a burden to him, he began to realise that the
past was not cancelled, that he had a life's debt yet to pay, and a
life's wrong for which, as far as possible, to make amends. But he
bravely faced his duty. Forrester's letters, which came frequently,
certainly did not much encourage melancholy reflections.

"I'm in clover here," the boy wrote about a week after Jeffreys had gone
North. "One would think I'd done something awfully fine. My guardian
is a trump--and is ever tired of telling me about my father. Do you
know I'm to have a pension from a grateful country? What wouldn't Black
Sal say to get hold of me now? What I value quite as much is his sword,
which I keep by my couch like a Knight Templar. So mind what you're up
to when you come back.

"Here am I writing about myself, when I know you are longing to hear
about (turn over-leaf and hide your blushes)--the babies! They are tip-
top. Timothy, ever since I got my sword, has shown great respect for
me, and sits on the pillow while I sketch. By the way, do you recognise
en