CHAPTER VIII.

WILL JOHN GRAY COME?

HE conversation related in the preceding chapter was duly reported by Ned to Hal, and by Hal to his sister Emma and his Aunt Betty. Aunt Betty had many inquiries and remarks to make, among which those which struck Hal as the most curious were some referring to the different tailors in the village who worked for Ned, and who would be likely to work for such a boy as John.

'What difference can it make to you?' he asked at length; 'you are not going to be measured for a boy's suit of clothes, are you, Aunt Betty?'

Aunt Betty laughed, and shook her head mysteriously. 'That is my business, and not yours.'

'Well, I will keep your secret, anyhow.'

'Wait till you have one to keep.'

'I suspect.'

'Suspicion is a bad trait in a boy; you should not encourage it.'

'What makes you always wonder what people want, and whether you can't do it for them, Aunt Betty?'

'Because I haven't anything else to think of, I suppose.' 'There is Miss Newton; she neither thinks nor cares for anybody but herself.'

'The Lord has given me more money than He has given her. You would not have me an unfaithful steward, would you, Hal?'

'I was only wondering what made you so different from everybody else; now, who but you would ever have thought of the tailor, and of

'Hush! you don't know anything about it, nor I either; so don't be too wise in your own conceit, Master Hal Foote.'

Soon after Hal left, Miss Wood might have been seen lifting the latch of a tailor's shop door; and, after looking timidly in, to assure herself that there was no one there, she entered, and held a long consultation, which ended in her leaving the shop with one of the quiet, benevolent expressions on her face which often made it almost beautiful.

Nothing more was said between Ned and John with reference to the Sabbath-school for this week. On the Sabbath Ned looked anxiously into the galleries, hoping to see John there; but he was not, and with a feeling of disappointment, which surely, considering the circumstances, was quite uncalled for, Ned went down to join his class. It so happened that Mr. Wilson, for the first time for many Sabbaths, inquired for John, and if the prospect of getting him to join the class seemed any more favourable. On Saturday Ned would have had a good story to tell, but to-day he could only say: 'No, Sir; I have done my best; but I don't think he is any nearer coming than he

H

was three months ago.' At which answer Hal looked surprised, but said nothing then.

What was worse to Ned than almost anything else in this connection was that John had latterly seemed to avoid him. He would make some excuse for leaving the shop if Mr. Jenkins went out, and never, so far as Ned could see, voluntarily spoke to him.

'I have done or said some foolish thing,' he said to Hal; 'and there is the end of it. I hoped little by little to influence him, and persuade him to come; but my motto this time has worked the other way, and I have undone all I hoped to do, little by little, till it's all up.'

'Never say die, Ned! I shouldn't wonder if he took us by surprise some day, and walked into church before we knew it. He's an odd fellow, you know.'

While the boys were talking about him, John came up. He had an important piece of news to tell them. Mr. Trowbridge, a wealthy manufacturer from Massachusetts, had determined to buy all the old factory buildings, put them in good repair, and start some new woollen factories, to make flannel for the soldiers. It was to be a government affair, and all the business men in the town were rejoicing over it; they said it would change Harland more than anything that had happened in it for fifty years. This the boys discussed with as much interest, if not wisdom, as the business men; and through the day it seemed to have broken the ice between Ned and John, the latter having many speculations over which he must talk with some one.

Indeed, as the factory buildings were not far from the

butcher's shop, much of John's time was spent in watching for those who went to and came from them, and in wondering what they were doing and saying. For the first time since he had been in Mr. Jenkins's employment, he seemed restless and indolent.

'He is going wrong every way,' said Ned to himself; 'and there is nothing, as I see, that I can do to prevent it. I wonder if Mr. Jenkins notices it; he doesn't say anything.'

It was while thus troubling about John that Ned went to work again in his garden, and again was interrupted in very much the same way as before, only this time there was no offer of assistance on John's part.

'Come in,' said Ned eagerly; he was unusually glad to see him. John, instead of jumping over the fence, came round to the gate. There was a slowness and uncertainty in all his movements, which made Ned throw down his hoe and watch him; but it was not until he was within a few rods of him that he saw what the trouble was: John had on a handsome new suit of clothes!

'Hallo-o!' he said, drawing out the word in the expressive boy way; 'where did you get all that?'

'Now don't,' said John, reddening over face and neck; don't, will you?'

'Don't what? Turn round; they fit like mittens; who made them ?'

'Mr. Sloane.'

'Mr. Sloane! why, I never saw such a good-looking fit as that come out of his shop before.'

'He got 'em up real cheap too, I tell you. Father said