the tower. . . . And awoke in his bed shuddering, and, for the first
time in his life, afraid of the dark. He would have called for his
mother, but just then down by the turret clock in Fore Street the
buglers began to sound the "Last Post," and he hugged himself and
felt that the world he knew was still about him, companionable and
kind.

Twice the buglers repeated their call, in more distant streets, each
time more faintly; and the last flying notes carried him into sleep
again.



CHAPTER III.


PASSENGERS BY JOBY'S VAN.

At breakfast next morning he saw by his parents' faces that something
unusual had happened. Nothing was said to him about it, whatever it
might be. But once or twice after this, coming into the parlour
suddenly, he found his father and mother talking low and earnestly
together; and now and then they would go up to his grandmother's room
and talk.

In some way he divined that there was a question of leaving home.
But the summer passed and these private talks became fewer.
Toward August, however, they began again; and by-and-by his mother
told him. They were going to a parish on the North Coast, right away
across the Duchy, where his father had been presented to a living.