When Gerald was coming home to spend his first holidays, it was a question whether he or another boy who had been his rival all through the term would come out head of his form in the examination at the end of it. He had written home several times about his chance of winning the highest place; and his father had replied, urging him not to be disappointed if he were second, as he ‘would do his best,’ and ‘the issue was in God’s hand,’ but plainly showing--he was too simple a man for disguise--how great his own longing was that he should be first. The list would not be read out until the morning of the day on which he came home. He would reach X---- about four o’clock in the afternoon. It was arranged that Mr. Eversley should go not all the way to X------he was prevented from doing so by some parochial duty--but to a little hill about halfway between Kestercham and X----, from which a view of the train, as it speeded by, was easily obtained; he was to be there in time for the train, and Gerald, if he were first in his form, was to wave his pocket-handkerchief from the window of his carriage; if not, there was to be no sign. It was a bitter day, the snow lay upon the ground; but Mr. Eversley was at his post, waiting fully half an hour for the train. As it sped by, a white handkerchief waved in the cold wind. Mr. Eversley thought he could discern a happy boyish face half hidden behind it. He knelt down for a moment in the snow and gave God thanks. It was a bitter day, the winter was strong upon valley and wold; but the summer had come again to Mr. Eversley’s heart.