The train by which Reuben travelled to Ashworth on Christmas Eve carried Owen Grant home also. Reuben saw Owen at the station before the train started, and he fancied that Owen saw him, but he walked away to the bookstall, and stood there with his back towards Reuben, as though desirous of avoiding him. So Reuben understood the action, and accordingly, he kept out of Owen's way. But midway to Ashworth, a change of trains had to be made, and as Reuben alighted at the junction, he was brought face to face with Owen Grant, and, if either wished it, there was no chance of avoiding a greeting. "Hullo! Reuben, old chap! Are you going down to Ashworth too? That is good luck," said Owen, with rather effusive friendliness; "I was wondering if you would be able to get away." "Yes; the factory is closed for three days," said Reuben. "How long do you get, Owen?" "The same time. It is not to be expected that they can give longer in such a business as ours. We have to work, I can tell you; but the pay is good." Owen's smart appearance seemed to confirm this statement. He was Reuben's companion for the rest of the way, and talked incessantly, chiefly about himself. It was clear that he held himself in higher esteem than ever, and the tone he adopted in talking to Reuben, though friendly, had a touch of condescension. The night was wet and cold. But when they reached Ashworth, old David Grant stood on the platform to welcome his son. The old man's voice trembled with emotion; his beaming looks told his pride and pleasure in the smart young man, who seemed to attract the notice of everybody. No one had come to meet Reuben Roy, nor had he expected to be met. He quietly shouldered his carpet-bag and marched homewards, attracting few glances as he went. But the welcome that awaited him when he reached the cottage—from the loving, weary mother, who had just finished her day's work and "cleaned up" the place; from the little ones, who had been allowed to stay up an hour later than usual because their brother was coming; and from his father when he came back from carrying home the last basket of linen—that warm, joyous welcome seemed to make amends for all Reuben had had to endure since he left home. Christmas morning was bright, and both Mr. and Mrs. Grant appeared at church, accompanied by their beloved son. Reuben saw them in the churchyard when the service was over. They greeted him very kindly. "We are so glad," said Mrs. Grant, "that you and Owen see each other sometimes in Birmingham. It is so nice for him to have an old friend near him, for he must often feel lonely when he is away from home." Her words were rather discomposing to Reuben. He hardly knew how to reply to them. "We are not near each other," he said abruptly. "Mother knows that," put in Owen quickly, as if to prevent his saying more; "she knows that you live in another part of Birmingham, and it is impossible for us to meet very often."