asked her to mind. The unsavoury consequence greatly annoyed her she was not given to such neglectful things, and, after making the best she could of it, and apologising to Susan very humbly, to Susan's great amusement, she settled herself to recover the fallen loops, saying to herself, with a jerk of her head,—

"There, there, you're an unbelieving old woman, Mrs. Hayes. What business have you to be building castles that won't hold anybody? Let the Lord do as He pleases, and then it will all come right. Aren't they His, and must not all things—yes, all things—work together for good to them that love Him?"

CHAPTER XXI.

A SORROWFUL SURPRISE.

OBERT TAYLOR shook hands with Matthew Hill at the door of a railway carriage as soon as the doctor would hear of the journey. Messrs. Carver and Davis sent a special message to say that if he would return after settling his affairs at home, they would gladly give him regular work. Everybody had been kind; and poor Matthew, with a heart now aching for home, found himself speeding on the way thither.

Humbled and chastened in spirit, he was going to prove how true was his penitence-how sincere his desire to be ruled henceforth by the precepts of that gospel which had brought light and salvation to his soul.

Twilight was already shading the landscape ere he reached

the station nearest to his home, and with his bundle on a stick over his shoulder he took the shortest cut, with a beating heart, across the fields. He hesitated for a little whether to call on his faithful friend Benjamin Field before going home, and so learn from him all that happened; but no, the first face he would see must be Jane's: she was the proper person to tell him anything he needed to know.

He drew his hat over his eyes to screen himself from notice, but no one recognised him; and with rapid step he approached his own door.

No lights were visible. Could he wonder? was it not almost a widowed home? Would he wish to see things going on as usual, in total indifference to his absence or presence ? Certainly not.

He knocked gently, and finding no notice taken, opened the door, and stood once more on his own threshold. There was no fire. The fading light was not sufficient to show all the desolation at once, but things looked strange. Was this really home? Excited and anxious, he sought a seat. His own chair was missing; but still there was evidence that the house was inhabited. He feared to call lest he might disturb the children; and after standing irresolute for a while, he began to mount the stairs.

"Who is it?" murmured a timid little voice from the room above.

"Hush! it's not mother; it's perhaps Mr. Field," was the answer of the braver boy, who was playing by Daisy's side.

The figure advanced towards the bed, and the little girl's true instinct, combined with her simple faith in the good God whom she had prayed to bring back her father, told her instantly who it was.

“Oh, Josy! I know who it is; dear daddy's come back,

he's come back. I knew he would." And the truant father, sitting down by the bed, clasped his two children in his arms, with a burst of agitation that almost frightened them. But he was father: he loved them, he had not forgotten them; and they kissed his face, and dried his tears, and felt very safe and happy in his arms.

Baby is asleep?" he said, inquiringly, when more composed.

The little girl nestled closer to his bosom, and Josy looked up in his face.

“Oh, father! don't you know? Poor baby went to sleep one night, and she never woke any more. They put her in the churchyard to sleep, Mrs. Field said, till Jesus comes to call up everybody, and then we'll see her again."

Poor Matthew groaned heavily. How proud he had been of that beautiful baby! how she had sprung and crowed at the sight of him, when she would get the tossing and the fun that his strong arms could give her! And she was taken away, and he not there to soothe her with a father's love, or to share the poor mother's grief with a husband's tenderness. Oh! it was a bitter drop of remorse and shame, but the cup was not emptied yet.

"Daisy did so want you," said the little one, caressingly; "p'raps I go to sleep soon too, but daddy's a good man now. Daisy prayed to God; oh, so much!"

"My darling, my precious ones," sobbed Matthew; "God has forgiven father's wickedness, and will make him good now."

"And he'll take care of us now. Oh, I'm so glad! oh, if mother will be good too!"

Matthew started. "Where is your mother, dear children?" he asked.

"We don't know," said the boy; "she didn't come in.