"You asked a question," said Father Allen, who was nothing if not exact; "you asked 'What shall we do with him?'" "And I ask it again," said Mrs. Allen, rubbing her forehead in a perplexed way, "whatever in the world shall we do with him?" "And I answer in the same words that the immortal Mr. Dick employed on a similar occasion to Miss Betsey Trotwood's question, 'Wash him and put him to bed.'" "We have done that," said his wife with a laugh, "now, what next?" "Oh! as to that," replied Father Allen with a yawn, "I must confess, I don't see my way clear to furnishing you with an additional answer. The only one I should suggest is, let _us_ go to bed." So the matter was left precisely as it always remained, for George Edward to follow out his own instincts, and grow up in his own way to solve life's greatest problem, "How can I best serve mankind, and carry out Christ's command 'To do unto others as I would that they should do to me.'" This narrative, more devoted to the interests of St. George and his doings, than to records of any other boys, will simply state that the morrow's morning train brought home the recreant crowd to the bosoms of their waiting families. The boys of this crowd always mentioned the old farmer who had passed the night with them, with an air, though not of fondness, of great respect. What he did to them to thus inspire them, I am in no position to know--I can only relate that he had great satisfaction in his part of the evening's entertainment, and that he simply remarked to Betsey on his return, "I don't think they'll do that thing again right away," and that Thomas when recalling the event, would often pause in his work to allow himself the brief respite of a smile after careful observation that revealed no on-looker. * * * * * "I don't think it pays," some voice at my elbow might say, as a pair of bright young eyes have traced thus far George Edward's career, "to be always watching to help other people out of scrapes. 'Look out for yourself' is going to be my motto."