  The Conclusion. Now this chronicle of the doings of my three boys must come to an end. I have grown very fond of them, and I hope you have too. We will take a big jump from the doings recorded in the last chapter, and look in upon them at a time fraught with importance to each of them. Their pleasant school with Mr. Meredith is broken up. Frank and Dick are going to college, and Jimmy is about to be articled to a Norwich solicitor. They will always remain the best of friends, but still the new Mr. Meredith had invited all three of them to dinner, and when Mrs. Meredith had retired the conversation grew more personal and confidential. They looked upon Mr. Meredith as an intimate friend and counsellor, as well as a tutor and schoolmaster, and they told him their plans and hopes, just as if he were one of themselves. Presently a silence fell upon the table. Frank looked at Dick, and Dick looked at Frank, and Jimmy kicked him under the table, and at last Frank cleared his throat with a preparatory "ahem" and said,— "I am not good at making speeches, Mr. Meredith, but we wish to express how very much obliged we have been to you for the kindness and the—in fact the—the—well, what we mean to say is—that you are a brick of a good fellow, sir." "What an awful muddle you have made of it, Frank," said Dick, in a reproachful whisper, and Jimmy launched a vicious kick at him under the table. There was a twinkle in Mr. Meredith's eye as he drank off his wine, which was partly due to mirth, and partly to a deeper feeling. He said,— "I know what you mean, Frank, and in return I may say, that I am both glad and sorry that the hour has come for us to part for a time. I am sorry, because I have much enjoyed your companionship for the last three years, and I believe you have done me as much good as I have done you. I am glad, because you have become such fine young fellows, and I have had a hand in the making of you, and you must do us all credit. Jimmy will make a good lawyer, I think; and he must remember that the law is an honourable profession, and that lawyers take the place of the knights of old; they must do all they can to succour the widows and fatherless, and never allow themselves to be made instruments of oppression. I will give Jimmy just one piece of advice: Go straight, and never attempt to finesse. I believe that this clever finessing, and attempting to outdo other lawyers in cleverness, has been the "I don't know yet, sir," replied Frank, "I should like to be a soldier, if I could be sure of active service pretty often." "I wish you would be a soldier in a purer army, my boy. We want some more men of your strength and energy to fight the devil with. We want men who will not only do what they have to do with all their might, but who have plenty of might to use." "I haven't the gift of the gab, sir," said Frank modestly. "That would come with practice and study, and, 'out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh.' But come, we must not leave Mrs. Meredith so long alone on this your last night here." So they went into the drawing-room and had a quietly pleasant evening. When they left, they walked together down by the broad, talking of many things. It was bright moonlight, and the Swan lay still and distinct on the water. It was warm, being in the middle of summer, and it was not late; and as they stood looking at the boat which they had built, and which had served them so well, they saw Mary and Edith Rose, who was staying with her, coming towards them, and Mr. and Mrs. Merivale not far behind. "Good night," said Jimmy, "I shall see you both in the morning;" and off he went. "Poor Jimmy," said Frank, "he does not like both of us going away, and he to be left behind alone." The two girls joined them, and Frank and Edith walked off together, and Dick and Mary did the same in another direction. "Mary," said Dick, "Mr. Meredith said that I ought to do some work in the world." "So you ought, Dick," she replied; "both Frank and Jimmy are going to be busy, and I did so hope you would do something too." "I mean to do something," he replied, with a quiet smile, "but I shall not tell you what it is yet. But if I do something It was not light enough to see if she blushed, but I am sure she did so very sweetly. What she said, very naively, was this:— "I thought you would ask me some time, Dick, but I did not want you to quite ask me until you came from college. We are only boy and girl, you know." "I am quite satisfied, Mary," he said, in that quiet, gentle voice of his which made you like him so much,—and so a compact was made, which both of them faithfully kept. Frank had not dared to say half so much to Edith; but the next morning, when he was saying good bye to them all, and it came to her turn, he looked her steadily in the face as she took his hand, and, moved by a sudden impulse, she put up her face to be kissed as Mary had done, and as he gravely kissed her, he said in a low tone, designed for her ear alone,— "I am going to do my very best, Edith, and what I do will be for your sake." These were sweet words to the little maiden; but Frank received by the next morning's post a little Testament from her, with these words written on the fly-leaf— "Not altogether for my sake, Frank," and the half rebuke was of great service to Frank. And so, God be with them! THE END. LONDON:
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