Next day she left, and, dismally enough, I made the first use of my liberty to accompany her in the fly to the station. She talked to me, as only she could, about the future, and the spirit in which she thought I would take up once more the work of the term and the thankfulness which she the widow, and I the orphan, could not help feeling to the Heavenly Father, who had saved us both from such peril and sorrow in the past. She urged me to show my gratitude for my escape, by seeking to follow more closely in the footsteps of that Saviour to whom she had so often taught me to look for help and guidance, and at the same time she urged me to pray for the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Her goodness only made my sorrow at parting the greater; and more than any time since I had entered Low Heath, the pangs of home-sickness fell upon me as I saw her into her carriage. Just before the train started I felt my heart beat suddenly, and the blood rush to my cheeks, as I saw a figure, with one hand in a sling, running up the platform, looking into one carriage after another. "Mother, here's Tempest!" Next moment he saw us, and ran up. "I heard you were going by this train," said he, "and I thought I would like to say good-bye." "Good-bye, my dear boy, and God bless you once more!" "The youngster's all right again, I see," said he, putting his hand on my arm. "I'll see he takes care of himself--good-bye." And the train steamed off, leaving us two on the platform. "I hope your hand's not awfully bad," said I, breaking a silence of nearly three months in the only way which occurred for the moment. "Rather not. We'd better cab it back--you're not up to walking yet." "Thanks awfully, Tempest, for saving--" "Look here, don't let's get on to that," said he. "I say," said I, "I was afraid you believed what Crofter said, and thought--" "You were an ass, Tommy--you always were--I ought to have remembered it. Of course I never believed a word Crofter said--I saw his game. But I was idiot enough to get riled at you for giving yourself away to him. I'm sorry. Now let's forget it. After all, it was the best thing for me that all that row about my bills came out when it did. You did me a better turn than you meant to do. Just like you--if you try to do things the right way, it's all up with everybody. But if you do them your own way, they manage to come round somehow." "But Crofter's done you out of the captaincy." "So much the better--I didn't deserve it. I'll get it back some day perhaps, and work it better. Come in to me to tea. Redwood's coming, and old Dicky, too." "But you're against Redwood for the Mile," said I. "That's no reason why I shouldn't give him a cup of tea, is it, you young mule?" The way he said it, and the grip of his hand on my arm, satisfied me that all was square once more between me and my dear old Dux. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. A DEAD HEAT.