‘Here’s the mortgage money, Pawliney,’ said Stephen, as he handed her a roll of bank-notes. ’It’s not due for a month yet, but I’ll be away for a week at the Bend, and if father gets hold of it he’ll take it to make matches of, as like as not. You’d better stow it away somewheres till the time comes.’

’Very well, Stephen, I’ll put it in my strong box, and carry the key in my pocket. You won’t be away at the Bend any longer than you can help, Stephen? It’s such a comfort to have you in the house.’

They were standing by the light waggon, which Lemuel had brought round from the barn, ready for Stephen’s journey.

‘Don’t know about the comfort part, Pawliney,’ said Stephen, with a queer choke in his voice. ’Seems like as if we all depended on you for that commodity. But I’ll be as quick as I kin. Good-bye, all of you. Git along, Goliath.’

Three days had passed since his departure, and Pauline stood in the doorway feasting her eyes on the lights and shadows which grouped themselves about the distant hills, when Lemuel brushed past her, clad in his Sunday best.

‘Why, Lemuel!’ she cried astonished, ’you haven’t had your supper yet. Where are you going?’

‘To China,’ was the brusque response. ’I’ve hed enuff of Sleepy Hollow, an’ bein’ ordered round by an old man with his head in the moon. It’s “Lemuel, do this,” an’ before I git started it’s “Lemuel, do the t’other thing.” You kin stand it ef you’re a mind ter; I won’t.’

‘But, Lemuel!’ gasped Pauline, ‘what will Stephen say?’

‘I don’t care what he says,’ said the boy roughly. ’Stephen ain’t my boss.’

‘Oh, Lemuel, you can’t mean it!’ cried Pauline, as she followed him down the path to the main road.

‘See if I don’t!’ And he strode away from her, and vaulted over the gate.

‘But what will father do?’

‘Git somebody that’s ez loony ez himself. I ain’t,’ was the jeering reply.

‘Lemuel, you mustn’t go, it will kill father!’ and Pauline stretched out her hands to him appealingly.

A mocking laugh was the only reply as he disappeared round a bend of the road.

Pauline went slowly back to the house feeling bruised and stunned.

‘Pawliney,’ piped her father in his shrill voice, ’where’s Lemuel? I told him to take the horse to the forge, and hoe the potatoes, and weed the onions, and go to the woods for a load. I don’t see how I’m to get through with such a lot of heedless boys around. What hev you done with him? You just spoil them all with your cossetin’.’

‘It will all come right, father,’ said Pauline soothingly. ’Lemuel has gone away for awhile.’

‘Away!’ echoed the old man suspiciously. ’Away, Pawliney? Did you know he was going?’

’Yes, father; he will be back by-and-by, and Stephen will be home next week.’

She paced her room that night with a heavy heart. There was no way to hinder the misguided boy. Before Stephen could follow him he would be on the sea. He had often declared he meant to be a sailor. Suddenly she stopped, thunder-struck. The lid of her strong box had been forced open! With an awful dread at her heart she lifted it and looked in. The money was gone!

With a bitter cry she fell upon her knees. ‘A thief!’ Her Lemuel. The boy that she had borne with and prayed over all these years! And the money was due in a month! What should she do? Stephen must never know Stephen, with his stalwart honesty and upright soul. His anger would be terrible, and she must shield Lemuel all she could. Poor Lemuel!

All night long she pondered sorrowfully. When the morning came she went to Deacon Croaker.

‘I hear you are behindhand with your wool,’ she said, in her straightforward way. ’I will spin it for you if you like, and, Deacon, may I ask you as a favour to let me have the money in advance?’

The deacon looked at her curiously.

’Hard up, air ye, Pawliney? Well, well, don’t colour up so, we all hev our scarce times. I ain’t partial to payin’ forehanded, but you was awful kind to Mis’ Croaker when her rheumatiz was bad on her, an’ I ain’t one ter forgit a favour. Cum in, Pawliney, while I git the money. Mis’ Croaker will be rale pleased; she thinks you’re the best spinner in the valley.’

‘No, thank you, I will wait out here.’

The old man hobbled into the house, and she stood waiting, clothed in her sorrow and shame.

‘So Lemuel’s ben an’ tuk French leave?’ he said, as he handed her the money. ’Well, well, I allers did say that boy’d be a heart break tew ye, Pawliney. Well, what’s gone’s forgot. Don’t fret over him, Pawliney, he was a bad lot, a bad lot. Ye’er well rid of him, my dear.’

‘I never shall forget him,’ Pauline said gravely, ’and he can’t get away from God, Deacon Croaker.’

She counted the bills as she hurried along. It would just make enough, with the butter money. That was all she had for clothes for herself and Polly but Polly had enough for a while, and she could go without.

In the evenings, long after the others were in bed, she paced up and down the kitchen, spinning Deacon Croakers wool into smooth, even threads, but her heart ached as she prayed for her boy, and often, when in the still watches of the night Polly kept her vigils with pain, she heard her cry softly:

‘Lemuel, Lemuel, oh! how could you, how could you do it?’

Her uncle’s family were living abroad now, and it was from Paris that Belle wrote, announcing her engagement to Reginald Gordon.

‘Just imagine, Paul,’ the letter went on, ’I, of all possible people, a missionary’s wife! But the fact of the matter is, my precious saint, your splendid, consecrated life made me tingle with shame to my finger tips when I thought of my aimless existence, and when I remembered how you took up your cross and followed your Master to Sleepy Hollow, there seemed to be no reason why I should not follow Him to Africa. If it will comfort you, I want you to know that you have been the guiding star which has led me out of the sloth of my selfishness into active work for the King.’

The years slipped by peacefully after that. Her father grew daily more childish, and needed more constant watching, but she found time to read to Polly many a snatch from her favourite authors, and Tryphosa’s Bible lay always open near her hand.

At last the day came when, in the full noontide, her father had called to her in his weak voice, ‘It’s gettin’ dark, Pawliney, and Lemuel’s not come home.’

And she had answered with her brave, sweet faith, ’Not yet, father, but he’ll come by-and-by. God knows.’

‘Yes, God knows,’ said the old man with a peaceful smile, ’I think I’ll go to sleep now, I’m very tired. You’ve been a good girl, Pawliney; a good girl. God bless you, my dear.’

When the evening came Pauline laid her hand softly on the wrinkled brow, from which the shadows had forever lifted. ‘Dear old father,’ she whispered, ’how little I thought, when I wished you and I could leave Sleepy Hollow, that you would be the first one to go away!’

’You ought always to dress in silk, Pauline, instead of calico. I wish you could,’ and Polly’s eyes rested on her with a world of love in their depths.

Pauline laughed as she kissed her.

’You silly child! Don’t you know that cotton grows, and silk has to be spun, which makes it costly? and cotton is content to be washed in spring water, while silk has to be bathed in tea. Can you spare me for a whole afternoon do you think, if I leave Carlyle and Whittier by your pillow?’

‘Where are you going?’

’Well, I want to take some apple custard to that poor Dan who fell from the haymow, and I must go and see how Susan’s children are getting through the measles. Then old Mrs Croaker wants to be sung to, and the widow Larkin wants to be read to, and Matilda Jones is “jest pinin’ fer a talk."’ She laughed merrily.

‘I never saw anyone get so much into their lives,’ said Polly wistfully. ‘I am so useless.’

‘You blessed child!’ cried Pauline, with the tears in her eyes; ’you are our Angel of Patience. Don’t ever call yourself useless, dear, you are the centre of gravity for Stephen and me.’

When the twilight fell she sat in her favourite position near the open door, looking up at the rose-tinted clouds, as she made Polly laugh with merry descriptions of her different visits.

Suddenly she grew still, for a sun-browned, bearded man had crossed the threshold, and thrown a paper into her lap, saying huskily:

’There’s the mortgage, Pauline, to make a bonfire of. I’ve come home to stay.’

Before he had finished, her arms were around his neck, and Polly heard her cry softly, with the break of a great gladness in her voice:

‘Lemuel! Why, Lemuel!’