"I shall never forget it, Miss Goldthwaite," answered Tom very
gravely.

And though after years brought many happy excursions up the Peak,
never was one so exquisitely enjoyed as this had been. The sun had
dropped behind the hill when the tired party reached the Red House,
and a big moon was coming up serenely in the opal sky. Mr. and Miss
Goldthwaite paused at the avenue gate, saying they would not come any
further; so the good-nights were said there and the company
separated.

"Good-night, my little poetess," whispered the judge as he lifted
Lucy from the waggon. "Go on writing, my dear; we will hear of you
yet." And he kissed her as he set her to the ground, and added
softly, "You have done an old man good to-day though you did not know
it."

It was a very quiet walk home by the river-side to the parsonage, but
the thoughts were all pleasant ones. Mr. Goldthwaite had not spoken
much to Lucy all day, but he had watched her, how closely she did not
know. He held her hand at parting, and looked straight into her
beautiful eyes, his own very grave and earnest.

"God bless you, Lucy; good-night." She wondered a little at the
oddness of his manner. "My soldier has shown to advantage to-day,"
said Miss Carrie, smiling as she shook hands with Tom. "I have been
very proud of him."

"Lucy," said Tom, as they turned into the paddock at Thankful Rest,
"do you know what I'm going to do when I'm a man?"