Had the idea struck him, he would have kept at a respectful distance, and there waited in hopes that the baying of the dog would disturb the inmates of the house, and that on their coming out to discover the reason, he would gain his object of being let in. But it is very doubtful whether a much older and, therefore, more thoughtful person than Harry would have considered anything but the fierceness of the dog, and the desirability of getting away as quickly, and as far, as possible. So Harry bolted down the lane at headlong speed, while the dog, seeing the intruder depart, only uttered a few self-satisfied growls, and returned to his mat in the porch, conscious that he had done his duty. At the same moment, Mrs Valentine opened her window and put out a night-capped head into the moonlight, and craning it all round, to see what was the matter, and seeing nothing extraordinary, put it in again, with a slight shiver. Good soul! how little she dreamt of the apparently-trifling episode enacted underneath her window! How gladly would she have welcomed the runaway frightened boy! And how different that boy's after life would have been had she but wakened sooner. Meanwhile, Harry was stopping at the churchyard-gate. He longed to go in. He hesitated. On another occasion, and in his mother's lifetime, he would not have dared to go inside the wicket after dark. But now, now he was going away, he knew not where! Out into the world, and that seemed a very long way off to Harry. It was like another country. Besides, what would hurt him while she was there, he asked himself? So, without more ado, he passed through the creaking gate, up the lime-tree avenue, heedless of the ghost-like shadows of the tombstones, and the rustle of the fragrant leaves. It was soon found, that little grassy mound in the corner by the ivy-covered porch. And then he could bear up no longer. He burst into tears, and throwing himself on the dewy moonlit sward, wept bitterly. "Oh, mamma, mamma, why did you die? why did you die? What shall I do?" he sobbed in a low, excited tone, "I'm so lonely, mamma! mamma!" And the quiet night stole on, and the soft winds of June whispered over the motherless boy, weeping there alone in the churchyard. The sound of footsteps! Harry jumped up and listened, eager, and frightened. The churchyard wicket was opened and shut again, and then he heard a steady measured tread of persons slowly approaching. He was riveted to the spot, and a cold perspiration broke upon his forehead. The steps were nearing, and then, rounding the corner of the tower, the new comers came into sight. One look was enough, and Harry was off down the other path that led from the churchyard to the further end of the village.