"I may get my answer any day after Friday," he said. "Of course I do
not expect it right off--it will take some little time for mother to
speak to father, and, besides, he might not be at home; so I must not
be disappointed if it seems long to wait."

Friday passed and many weeks rolled by, and still Stanley was hopeful.
"They are considering," he said, "and that is so much better than if
they refused; and perhaps they are looking about a boat--I think that
must be what is keeping the letter back. I feel so glad and happy
about it, it seems that permission must be coming."

In a month a bulky parcel came to him by express. It contained a
framed picture of the Good Shepherd carrying the lost lamb in his
arms; a box of hawthorn blossoms, faded but still fragrant, and a book
which gave directions for playing solitaire in one hundred and
twenty-three ways!!

Mrs. Corbett hastened to his room when she heard the cry of pain that
escaped his lips. He stood in the middle of the floor with the book in
his hand. All the boyishness had gone out of his face, which now had
the spent look of one who has had a great fright or suffered great
pain. The book on solitaire had pierced through his cloudy brain with
the thought that his was a solitary part in life, and for a few
moments he went through the panicky grief of the faithful dog who
finds himself left on the shore while his false master sails gayly
away!

"I will be all right directly," he stammered, making a pitiful effort
to control his tears.