he could distinguish, and then it too
disappeared round the corner.

And an hour or so later, there were warm, dry boots and stockings before
the fire, which even in August the continued rain made necessary, and a
"beautiful" breakfast of hot coffee, and a regular north-country rasher
of bacon, and Mrs. Crosby's home-made bread and butter, all waiting on
the table. And Ted's mother took up her post again to watch for the
reappearance of the tiny black speck, which was gradually to grow into
her boy. It did not tarry. As soon as was possible it came in sight.

"How quick he has been--my dear, clever, good little Ted!" his mother
said to herself. And you may be sure that she, and Cissy too, were both
at the door to meet the little human water-rat, dripping, dripping all
over, like "Johnny Head-in-air" in old "Struwelpeter," but with eyes as
bright as any water-rat's, and cheeks rosy with cold and exercise and
pleasure all mixed together, who, before he said a word, held out the
precious letter.

"Here it is, mother--from father, just as you expected. I do hope it's
got good news."

How could it bring other? Mother felt before she opened it that it could
not contain any but good news, nor did it. Then she just gave her brave
little boy one good kiss and one hearty "Thank you, Ted." For she did
not want to spoil him by overpraise, or to take the bloom off what he
evidently thought nothing out of the common, by exaggerating it.

And Ted enjoyed his breakfast uncommonly, I can assure you. He was only
eleven and a half. I think our Ted showed that he had a sweet and brave
spirit of his own;--don't you, children?

CHAPTER XI.

"IT'S ONLY I, MOTHER."

"How well my own heart knew
That voice so clear and true."

The summer in the wolds, so long looked forward to, was over. It had
been very happy, in spite of the rain having given the visitors at the
Skensdale farm-house rather more of his company than they had bargained
for, and it left many happy memories behind it.

And the coming home again was happy too. The days were beginning to
"draw in" as people say, and "home," with its coal-fires--which, though
not so picturesque, are ever so much _warmer_ than wood ones, I assure
you--its well-closing doors and shutters, its nice carpets and curtains,
was after all a better place for chilly days and evenings than even the
most interesting of farm-houses. And Ted had his school-work to think of
too; he was anxi