"When will he come home?"

"Never, to this house, I think. Another customs officer has come over
in his place, but this one lodges at the King's Arms, because he's a
bachelor."

The lad cast a final hopeless glance at the house, and then
mechanically took a folded letter from an inner pocket, and dismally
regarded the name on the back.

"I had a letter for him," he said, presently, looking again across the
street at me and Madge, for the curious Miss Faringfield had walked
down from her gateway to my side, that she might view the stranger
better. And now she spoke, in her fearless, good-humoured, somewhat
forward way:

"If you will give the letter to me, my father will send it to Mr.
Aitken in London."

"Thank you, but that would be of no use," said the lad, with a
disconsolate smile.

"Why not?" cried Madge promptly, and started forthwith skipping across
the dusty street. I followed, and in a moment we two were quite close
to the newcomer.

"You're tired," said Madge, not waiting for his answer. "Why don't you
sit down?" And she pointed to the steps of the vacant house.