was vacant.

But there was at last a great nudging of elbows, and whispers of "Look
out now!" "We're in a scrape!" "No chance for fun today!" And only Tip's
eyes looked glad when Holbrook halted before their class, with "Good
morning, boys." Then, "Good morning Edward; I am glad to see you here
to-day;" and the minister actually held out his hand to Tip. Mr. Holbrook
never called him Tip; he had asked him one morning what his real name
was, and since then had spoken it, "Edward," in clear, plain tones.

It was a restless, wearying class. It required all Mr. Holbrook's wits
and wisdom to keep them in any sort of order, to gain any part of their
attention. Yet it was not as bad as usual; partly because the minister
knew how, if anybody did, to teach just such boys, and partly because
Tip, hitherto the spirit of all the mischief there, never took his eyes
from the teacher's face. Mr. Holbrook watched his close attention, and
took courage. When the other scholars passed out, he laid his hand on
Tip's arm, with the words, "You have been a good listener to-day, Edward,
Did you understand the story I told, of the boy who started on a journey
to the Holy Land?"

"Some of it I did: you meant that he started for heaven."

"You understand it, I see. Don't you want to take that journey?"

"I mean to, sir."

"'Help Thou mine unbelief,'" was Mr. Holbrook's prayer just then. He had
hoped for, longed for, prayed for these boys, especially for this one
since the day before; yet he was astonished when he received the firm,