'Did he?' My heart rather smote me. It was so long since I had seen him or thought of him, and to-day I had followed Farmer Foster out of church by the door that led across the meadows to Furzy Nook. 'He's been away at Morechester but I'll run over now, and ask after him.' Master Caleb was not under his cherry-tree watching the sunset as usual. He was indoors, sitting with his back to the window, holding a book open in his hands. Mrs Janet, with a thorough look of Sunday leisure all about her, sat very upright at the table, reading also. 'I thought you were at Morechester, Master Caleb,' I said, as he looked up and held out his hand. 'Oh no. I came home a week since. Well, Willie, how's the hay-making getting on?' 'Pretty fair, sir, if the rain keeps off;' and I looked anxiously out of the window. I knew that there was not the shadow of a cloud to be found anywhere, and no chance of rain; but Farmer Foster always scanned the clouds when he was asked after the hay; so it was probably the right thing to do. Master Caleb nodded absently. 'Is the Professor's book done yet, Master Caleb?' 'Here it is.' He held the book he had been reading towards me. 'Printed and all!' I turned admiringly over the pages, some of which I must have carried to the post myself when they went to be printed. 'Did he give it to you?' 'She did.' His hand trembled as he took it back. Cuthbert had been right in saying that he looked worn and ill. It seemed a trouble to him to answer questions, and I, having the fear of Mrs. Janet somewhat before my eyes, could not think of anything to talk about. 'Master Caleb,' I said, after standing near him for a few minutes, hoping he would speak, 'when you see Mrs. Dorothy again, will you tell her, with my respects----' He interrupted me. 'You can tell her yourself, Willie, when you go to bid her good-bye. Ah, you haven't heard. They are leaving Morechester.' 'Mistress Dorothy? But not for long?' 'I mean that they are going away altogether.' 'Going away! where to?' 'To live in Scotland.' His voice sank a little. 'Oh, Master Caleb!' He looked across at his sister, and half smiled. Great rough boy as I was, I nearly burst out crying. I stammered, began to say I was sorry, and had to stop short. He put his hand kindly on my shoulder, and presently he said, 'There is just a chance of their not going, Willie. It was not finally settled--just a chance.' 'It's quite as good as settled,' observed Mrs. Janet, without looking up. 'I know it is.' 'Why, why do they?' I asked, finding my voice at last, but with a sort of crack in it. 'Because they want him to be Professor of Chemistry at some place in Scotland, if you must know everything,' said Mrs. Janet, answering again, to my surprise. 'That book you have there is very much thought of, and he is Scotch, and so he wants to go--There!' 'But Mistress Dorothy?' 'She is sorry,' said my master, in a low voice.