real comfort if he is come to stop.'

So Harold went off with the letters and the pony, and Ellen and her
mother exchanged a few words about the gentleman and his last
Sunday's sermon, and then Ellen went to dust the shop, and put out
the bread, while her mother attended to Alfred's wound, the most
painful part of the day to both of them.

It was over, however, and Alfred was resting afterwards when Harold
cantered home as hard as the pony could or would go, and came racing
up to say, 'I've seen him! He's famous! He stood out in the road
and met me, and asked for his letters, and he's to be at the
Parsonage, and he asked my name, and then he laughed and said, "Oh!
I perceive it is the royal mail!" I didn't know what he was at, but
he looked as good-humoured as anything. Halloo! give me my old hat,
Nell--that's it! Hurrah! for the hay-waggon! I saw the horses
coming out!'

And off he went again full drive; and Alfred did nothing worse than
give a little groan.

Ellen had enough to do in wondering about Mr. Cope. News seemed to
belong of right to the post-office, and it was odd that he should
have preached on Sunday, and now it should be Tuesday, without
anything having been heard of him, not even from Miss Jane; but then
the young lady had been fluttered by the strange boy, and Alfred had
been so fretful, that it might have put everything out of her head.

Friarswood was used to uncertainty about the clergyman. The Rector
had fallen into such bad health, that he had long been unable to do