tantly noticed.

"Auntie dear," he asked, "what's amiss? I'm sure you are not well this
morning."

"I am a little upset, dear boy," she replied, "but it is nothing
serious."

"I hope not, Kate," said her brother. "But where is Amos?"

"Well, Walter," replied his sister, "that is just it. I have a note
from him this morning asking me to excuse him to you; that duty has
called him away, and that I shall understand in what direction this duty
lies. I can only hope that nothing serious is amiss; but this I am
quite sure of, that Amos would never have gone off in this abrupt way
had there not been some pressing cause."

Mr Huntingdon did not speak for a while, his thoughts were evidently
troubling him. He remembered the last occasion of his son's sudden
absence, and was now well aware that it had been care for his poor
erring child's neglected little ones that had then called Amos away.
Perhaps it might be so now. Perhaps that daughter herself, against whom
his heart and home had been closed so long, might be ill or even dying.
Perhaps she was longing for a father's smile, a father's expressed
forgiveness. His heart felt very sore, and his breakfast lay untasted
before him.

As for Walter, he knew not what to say or think. He dared not speak his
fears out loud lest he should wound his father, whose distress he could
not help seeing. He would have volunteered to do anything and
everything, only he did not know exactly where to begin or what to
propose. At length Mr Huntingdon, turning to the old butler, who was
moving about in a state of great uneasiness, said, "Do you know, Harry,
at what hour Mr Amos left this morning?"

"No, sir, not exactly. But when Jane came down early and went to open
the front door, she found the chain and the bolts drawn and the key
turned back. It was plain that some one had gone out that way very
early."

"And when did you get your note from Amos, Kate?" asked her brother.

"My maid found it half slipped under my door when she came to call me,"
was the reply.

"And is there nothing, then, to throw light on this sudden and strange
act on Amos's part?" asked the squire.

"Well, there is," she answered rather reluctantly. "My maid has found a
little crumpled up sheet of paper, which Amos must have accidentally
dropped as he left his room. I don't know whether I ought to have taken
charge of it; but, as it is, the best thing I can do is to hand it to
you."

Mr Huntingdon