Franks and his wife received a message from Mr. Curtis, on the following morning, to desire them to come to the vicarage at one. At their accustomed time of assembling for study, the boys of Colme flocked to their school-house, full of expectation and excitement, the congratulations beaming in their eyes which their lips did not venture to utter; for something in their master's manner told them that they must not speak to him of any change in his prospects likely to be caused by the baronet's death. The boys, who were rejoicing in the assurance that they would keep their "dear old Ned Franks," since there was a new baronet now, could hardly settle to business or attend to their tasks. Had not their teacher found it quite as difficult to do so himself, he would have had to reprove or correct half his pupils for the most ridiculous blunders. There was also an unusual amount of nodding, whispering, and smiling, which Ned Franks for once tried in vain to repress. The boys had never seemed to care so little for addition or multiplication, or found it so impossible to master a column of spelling. "He'll never leave us, not he;" "Won't the curate be glad to keep him!" "That fellow with the sly look, who was to have been our master, will have to take himself off sharp, like a beaten dog!" "Won't we have jolly days now, and won't we work double hard at Wild Rose Hollow!" Such were the eager whispers which passed from mouth to mouth. It must be owned that Franks seemed to be an inefficient school-master on that day, and had very inattentive pupils.

Lesson time was over at last, and punctual to their appointment, the Frankses appeared at the vicarage just as the church clock struck one. The boys, instead of dispersing as usual, had followed them, like an escort, as far as the garden gate. Norah, with a beaming countenance, was waiting at the door to usher them in. The young maiden had double cause for her joy, for her mistress had received a letter that morning from Mrs. Lowndes, mentioning that the confession of Martha, her late housemaid, that she had taken the lost sovereign which had accidentally dropped on the floor, had entirely cleared Norah from all suspicion of theft. Mrs. Lowndes expressed her satisfaction that Norah had succeeded in getting a place, and gave her testimony that, except in one unhappy act of deception into which she had been drawn, a more truthful and faithful servant than Norah she never had known. Norah had not at this moment time to tell the Frankses of this letter, which had been a great relief to her affectionate heart, but her pleasure was seen in her looks. She ushered her uncle and his wife into the study, and then would herself have retired, but her mistress, with a kindly smile, beckoned her to remain. Never had she been more readily obeyed.

In the vicar's study were collected several of the villagers of Colme, looking on with curiosity and interest. Sands, the clerk, unusually placid and serene in his mien, stood by the side of his wife, whose dark eyes expressed pleasure mingled with something like triumph. The sturdy miller was also present, holding by the hand his little Bessie, who looked brimming over with joy.

Mr. Curtis, who was seated in his large arm-chair, shook hands with the school-master, and then Persis received first from her pastor, and then from his wife, the same kindly greeting. Had there been any doubt before on the subject, the manner of Mr. and Mrs. Curtis, and the smiles of the villagers present, would have assured the Frankses that they were summoned to hear good news. The pastor when he spoke was listened to in respectful silence.

"I have been requested, Franks, by Mr.—I mean Sir Claudius—to express to you his hope that you will continue, and long continue," there was a strong emphasis on the word long, "to instruct the boys of our village school. He has had, during the time that he has been curate at Colme (as I have had during a much longer period), the opportunity of seeing how faithfully, zealously, and successfully you have performed the duties of your office. To no one could we more gladly, more confidently, entrust the charge of our boys."

Ned Franks bowed and colored at the praise; Persis exchanged a glance of pleasure with Norah.

"And I have another pleasant office to perform," continued the old vicar, turning to receive from the hand of his wife a well filled crimson purse which had lain on the study table. "When we were afraid that we were going to lose you, that you and your good wife were about to leave Colme, a little subscription was set on foot, to procure a testimonial to be given at parting to those who have earned the respect—I may say the affection—of those amongst whom they have dwelt."

"They have—they have," murmured Nancy, and little Bessie squeezed tightly the hand of her father to express her silent assent.

"We are happily to keep you with us in Colme," continued the vicar; "but our friends"—here he turned smilingly towards the parishioners who represented the subscribers,—"our friends will not lose the opportunity of offering the present, though we all unite in hoping that the parting may be very far off."

Ned Franks, by whom this tribute of regard from his neighbors had been altogether unexpected, was taken by surprise, and looked more confused and embarrassed than if he had been receiving a reproof instead of a present.

"No—indeed, sir—I am very thankful—grateful to you—to all—but I could not,"—he stammered forth, shrinking from touching the proffered purse. "Pray, let the money be returned to the subscribers. I feel, from my heart I feel, their great kindness all the same as if I availed myself of it."

"They won't touch it, not a penny of it!" exclaimed Nancy, who was standing behind the vicar's chair. "I went round to every one this morning. You must take the purse, Ned Franks, if it be but to throw it away!"

John Sands, who had a high sense of decorum, looked aghast at his wife thus venturing "to put in her word" in the vicar's own study; but the clerk only attempted to stop her by a faintly murmured "My dear!"

"No, indeed, I will never throw away money so kindly, so generously given," said Franks. "Pray, sir," he continued, addressing Mr. Curtis, "let the contents of the purse go towards repairing the almshouses in Wild Rose Hollow. I and my wife have everything that we need, and I think that I can answer for Persis that this is the way in which she would best like the money to be spent."

There was a little murmur through the circle of villagers, in which admiration of the sailor's generosity was mingled with something like dissatisfaction at his giving everything away. Nancy said, in a very audible whisper, "They could have had their trip to the sea-side." Mrs. Curtis, who had hitherto remained a silent though interested spectator, now spoke.

"Perhaps all parties will be gratified by a compromise," said the lady; "let half of the contents of the purse be contributed by Franks to the object for which he has pleaded and worked so hard, and let him satisfy his friends here by using the other half for a little holiday-trip for himself and his wife, when his pupils for a time give up their studies for gleaning."

The proposal of the lady gave universal satisfaction, and when Ned Franks and his happy wife had quitted the vicar's house, the loud ringing, joyous cheer which greeted them from the boys who had been waiting outside went as warm to their hearts as the praise of their pastor, and the practical token of the loving esteem of their neighbors.

When the sound of cheers had died away, and all the shaking of hands and exchange of words of kindness were over at last, Franks and his wife, thankful and happy, turned towards their own home, whilst neighbors and boys dispersed to theirs. For several minutes neither husband nor wife spoke a word; perhaps each understood too well what was passing in the mind of the other for any words to be needful. At length the silence was broken by Ned.

"Persis," he said, with emotion, "I think I'm more humbled than exalted by all this kindness, and all this praise. How our friends judge by the outside! It is God alone who reads the heart. How little they guess what a struggle with evil was going on here," Ned laid his hand on his breast, "and that not forty-eight hours since!"

"God gave you the victory," said Persis, softly.

"He helped me in the hour of temptation," said Franks; "and when the enemy of souls takes advantage of my weakness, and sends his fire-ships again to set this impatient spirit in a blaze, may I be enabled to be watchful and vigilant, and steer my onward course in the safe track left by Him who was meek and lowly in heart!"

My little story is almost ended. I shall not linger over any description of the well-earned holiday-trip, which was greatly enjoyed by Franks and his wife. The almshouses in Wild Rose Hollow were put in most perfect repair before winter, and each one had a beautiful porch. The work of Ned and his "jovial crew" was helped forward by the ready purse of the new baronet. Sir Claudius never forgot that he was the minister of the gospel, as well as the lord of the manor.

I will but give a short glimpse of the party of village boys gathered together on the following Christmas day in the school-room, not for study, but to partake of a substantial feast provided for them by Sir Claudius. The large room was richly decked out with wreaths of bay and holly, bunches of mistletoe, and sprigs of laurel. Even blind Sophy had helped to form the garlands; for the long-cherished wish of Benoni had been gratified at last, and Isaacs had brought him and his adopted sister to spend their Christmas at Colme. The preparations for the banquet had been made by Persis, with Norah and Nancy Sands as her cheerful assistants, while Benoni, proud of the charge, had insisted on taking care of the baby.

"What a different Christmas this is from my last!" thought Nancy, with a humbling recollection of having made the last anniversary of her Lord's birth an occasion for plunging into mad and sinful excess! Such memories but deepened her thankfulness to Him who had snatched her from the whirlpool of destruction.

"What a different Christmas this is from the last!" observed Benoni, looking up with a glad smile into the face of Persis, his first friend in Colme, and still the one most tenderly loved. "Last Christmas we were in London, and there was such a yellow fog that we could not see to read without a candle, and we had no candle to light! and we should have stood shivering round the fire, only there was no fire to stand round! And when we came home from church, we were hungry enough for our Christmas dinner, only," the boy added, with a laugh, "dry bread and cold tea didn't look much like Christmas fare!"

"You must have had a sad time of suffering, then, dear Benoni!"

"It would have been sad indeed, except that the Lord was with us in our trouble, as he is now in our joy!"

"Ah! my boy," said Ned Franks, who had overheard the last observation, "that is the secret of having life's voyage a safe and a happy one. It is when the Master is with us that we are guided through the rocks and the shoals, and kept from running aground. It is having the Master with us that turns the storm into a calm, so that the winds and waves are still. And so, when the children of God reach the heavenly shore, it will only be because the Master was with them, and hath brought them at last, through his power and his love, unto their desired haven."

THE END.