Inside the Union Station--that horror of horrors that still appals the train-borne visitors to a great city--William and his escorts were met by Lucien, Whimple, and Epstein. There was much affected gaiety, but the hopes for William's future were almost overwhelmed in the deep regret at his departure. Tommy Watson was an absentee, and William felt this keenly, although he said nothing of it. Pa Turnpike made a shrewd guess at the cause of his boy's furtive glances around the station, and murmured to Epstein, "I thought Mr. Watson would have been down." "So did I," answered the old comedian, a little apologetically, "but perhaps----" and then he looked around sharply as the music of a brass band echoed along the vaulted roof of the station. And what think you the band was playing? "Will ye no come back again." Yes, and playing it well, too. As the band came into view from one of the arched crossings, the faces of the group around William lit up with smiles, for, marching proudly in front, and carrying an enormous bunch of roses, was Tommy Watson, his head erect, his shoulders well back, his face aglow. To his signal the band aligned in front of the little group, and broke into a new tune, a lilting march, written around a then popular song, now almost forgotten, "Bill, our Bill." Perhaps there are some who still remember the chorus:-- "Bill, our Bill, see him smile, On fair days and dull days, Oh, it's well worth while, To watch him at work, To see him at his play; Bill, our Bill; see him smile." After they had played the chorus several times, the bandsmen sang it, William's friends joining in. "Rotten verse," said Lucien Torrance, when they were through, "but it fits you, William Adolphus Turnpike--our Bill." "Where did you get the band, Tommy?" asked Epstein. "Minstrel show; arrived in Toronto before daylight for a week's engagement," retorted Tommy, proudly, and in curt sentences; "know the leader; copped him at breakfast; arranged terms in five minutes; great send-off to the coming world-famous comedian. Sorry couldn't bring Tommy junior down; sleeping; would have enjoyed it." Then to William he handed the roses. "Boy," he said gravely, and with a touch of tenderness in his tone, "a lady, a young lady, gave me these with this message, 'Please tell Mr. Turnpike I wish him success.'" Some say William blushed. William still stoutly denies it; but he could not speak for a moment. His heart was beating wildly; his hands trembled as he took the roses and held them a second or two to his face. He looked up again, self-possessed and quiet. "Thank you, Tommy," he said, simply. "Is there a----" began Lucien, eagerly. William broke in gently, "Don't, Lucien," he said, "my career is first--yet. I dare not hope--what sometimes I have dared to hope. I----"