'oh, alick!

'oh, theo!'

after the first cries of greeting there was a silence. theo's arms were tight round her restored brother's neck, and alick rested his tear-stained cheek against his sister's. they were alone in the room, but, in truth, the boy would not have cared if all northbourne had been looking on.

'theo,' he sobbed out presently, 'it was awful!'

'yes, dear, it must have been,' whispered theo sympathetically, tightening her arms. 'it was not what you expected?'

'it was awful!' repeated alick. as yet he could find no words to picture his experience of life out in the hard world. 'and,' he went on, lifting up his tear-stained face, 'i am more sorry than i can ever tell that i did it, theo—sorry and ashamed.'

'have you told god that, alick?' asked theo softly, in his ear.

'yes, i have,' was the grave, equally low reply. 'i've put it on to the end of my prayers, night and morning. and—perhaps he will forgive me some day, if i—if i can do something, work out something, you know, to show that i am really and truly sorry. don't you think i could manage something of the sort, theo?' asked alick earnestly, if awkwardly.

'no, alick, i don't!' said theo abruptly; and the boy's face fell. of late the boy had been full of this new desire to efface his wrong-doing by some means or other himself. 'most certainly, dear old boy,' went on his sister, more gently, 'you cannot "blot out" your transgression by your own efforts. don't you know that we have, each and every one of us, in the heavens, that great high priest who is interceding for us always, always? he, our dear lord, has already done that "something" which you are groping to do in your weak, small way. he has worked out your redemption—yours and mine. what you have to do is to carry your sins to the foot of the cross, where the great "something" was accomplished for us. you remember the hymn—

'"i lay my sins on jesus,

the spotless lamb of god."

oh, alick! i'm only a girl, and i can't say the words right; but you must lay your sin on jesus, who has promised to bear it. tell him of your sorrowing repentance. that's all you have got to do; he does the rest!'

'and, theo, there's price,' alick lifted his head to say presently. 'oh, i can't tell you what he has done for me! he nursed me all through in that slum of a whitechapel—me, of all people! and when i begged his pardon for all my bad conduct you should have seen his face! theo, if you'll give me your word never to tell it to any one, i cried like a baby; for price looked for all the world like stephen looked when they were stoning him. but you'll never tell i said so? i was a cowardly wretch to insult him as i did; and to think how he has paid me back—"coals of fire" are nothing to it!'

'well, i always told you, alick, that he was a true christian gentleman; i was sure of it.'

'i know you did. i've found it out for myself, now. theo!' energetically added alick, 'i shall never be the same again, i hate my old self! i mean to be so different. i shall work, and study, and——'

'and try "to do your duty in that state of life unto which it has pleased god to call you," i hope,' put in theo quietly. 'but, alick, you must ask his help to hold you up, and to prevent your footsteps from sliding,' she added reverently. 'you can't do it in your own strength, dear!' as theo ceased there were tears on her face, and alick's also. for a long time no other words were spoken—none were needed.

the sun was setting over the bay, and the fisher-folk, busy with their preparations for the coming night's work, were cheerily shouting from one boat to another. it was good indeed, alick felt, his heart throbbing with gratitude, to be once again in the dear old home, in the clean, wholesome country.

by and by the rest of the family crowded in, and, bit by bit, alick's tale was told to his wondering hearers.

'well, well, boy,' said the captain, putting his arms round the neck of his prodigal son, 'your precious escapade has taught you one stern lesson among others, and that is, there's no place like home as yet.'

alick hung his head to hide his shamed face. how good everybody was to him! the kindness seemed to stab him through and through. father's arm round his neck; one hand clasped by theo's, and the other hugged up in both of queenie's fat, warm little hands; and geoff devouring him with eyes dilated with joyful pride over his brother's safe return. and never a harsh word had passed any one's lips! such treatment to a character of alick's type was the keenest of punishment.

under another northbourne roof another penitent was confessing his folly that same evening.

'no, granny, never, never will i stir out o' northbourne, now i've had the luck to get back to it!' ended ned, after relating his adventures in his absence.

'not even if so be as they can't find the north pole without 'ee to help 'em, eh, my lad?' asked granny slyly, across the supper-table. the old woman had much ado to hide her joy over ned's return.

ned coloured, and hung his head abashed. 'oh, well, i expec' they can manage without me and muster alick!' he stammered at last.

'that's true enough! depend upon it, ned, if the lord needs you, he will shape the way for you, plain as plain. meantime, it looks as if he meant you to bide here, seein' as how in his goodness he has bringed you back to us. and you just try to remember all your life through, my lad, what the book tells us—that "godliness with contentment is great gain."'

it is a year ago exactly since 'the theodora' sank to the bottom of the blue waters in the bay where she still lies. time has wrought and brought many changes in northbourne, as time will. over at the vicarage is the greatest change, for the good old parson has gone home to—

that sweet and blessed country

that eager hearts expect';

and his frail, ailing widow has been taken away to dwell with distant relatives. but binks, under a new master, is still the handy-man; while splutters and shutters have become sedate members of society, for their new proprietor is philip price, than whom few know better the true secret of ruling.

yes, the young tutor is now restored to health and strength. the fine northbourne air, the restfulness of country life, and god's goodness, have combined to set up philip price as a robust man. he had been ailing so long in the old days, that he had got well-nigh accustomed to being a semi-invalid. but, nowadays, he has become so strong that he has forgotten what ailing means—in his own person that is, for he is a man of keen sympathies with all concerning his fellow-men.

with renewed health he had thrown himself more vigorously than ever into his work of teaching; but other things were in store for him.

on mr. vesey's unexpected death, the living of northbourne was vacant, of course. philip price did not dream of more than a fleeting wish than it might have fallen to himself.

other people, however, went a step further than wishing. the captain, it so happened, was a cousin of the patron of the parish. with all his energy he set about procuring the living for one to whom he would ever feel bound by ties of gratitude.

'if he be a thorough gentleman, a christian through and through, and an honourable man, why—let him have it!' said the patron testily. this unexpected compliance was so astounding that the old sailor felt thrown back on himself, as it were, and returned slightly bewildered by his own success.

in due time the new vicar and his mother, two proud and happy people, settled down in the vicarage house which stares across the bay at the bunk.

in the carnegys' home the only changes are most happy ones. since the captain gave up allowing his hobby to be his master, and has taken a keener interest in his boys' and girls' daily life, all things are brighter at the bunk. the old naval officer is never happier than when on the water with his family-crew, and has presented each of his boys with a canoe, to the pride and glory of not only themselves, but the entire fishing community.

theo still pulls queenie and queenie's ever-increasing doll-family about the bay, but in a new 'theodora.' but the tall, sweet-faced sister, of whom the carnegy boys are so proud, seldom rows across to the vicarage nowadays. some folk wonder why. others, who are wiser, smile and say that perhaps 'miss theedory' will go across some day and land for life at the vicarage. and less likely things have happened. indeed, jerry blunt is engaged in training a young bullfinch as a wedding-present, though nobody can induce him to say for whom. but people cannot help shrewdly guessing, when they remember that theo gave away the first bird-singer jerry presented to her to mrs. vesey, as a northbourne keepsake, when she left the vicarage.

and the carnegy boys?

well, they are making the most of their freedom this summer, as next term they set out on a public-school career. they have not been idle this past year, and philip price knows they will not disgrace him when confronted with more strict examiners than himself. alick, in particular, has been diligent, and being endowed with plenty of brains, his father and theo are full of hope regarding his future.

better still, alick's heart is a changed one. by god's grace his footsteps are set in the right path. no more rebellious outbursts will there be against those whom the will of god has set over him. a sharp lesson taught him the world's cruel hardness to the defenceless, and showed the true value of a good father and a pure home.

geoff, ready as ever to take his colour from his surroundings, has been treading steadily on his altered brother's heels in the 'narrow way.'

and now our sojourn in breezy little northbourne is over, and we must say farewell to its fisher-folk. some of us may, perchance, meet the carnegy boys on life's journey; who can say? but the stay-at-homes—the stalwart, active ned dempster, now one of fletcher's boat-crew; the bird-trainer, jerry blunt; the families of the bunk and the vicarage,—to one and all we must say good-bye, which is 'god be with them!'