"
"Did he try to find me, Mrs. Martin? Oh, I'm so glad! And can I see
him now, please?"
The boy's voice trembled with eagerness as he spoke.
The housekeeper's kind face was full of pity and sympathy as she
exclaimed, "Why, my boy, didn't you know? The bishop is in California.
He went a week ago to stay three months."
All the glad brightness faded from the boy's face as he heard this. He
did not speak, but he turned aside, and brushed his sleeve hastily
across his eyes. Mrs. Martin laid her hand gently on his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry," she said, "and he will be too, when he knows of your
coming. I will write him all about it."
Still the boy stood silent. It seemed to him that he could not bear
it. It had not once occurred to him that the bishop might be away, and
now there was no possibility of seeing him for three long months. It
seemed an eternity to the boy. And to think that he was there--at
home--a week ago!
"If they hadn't stole that five dollars from me, I might 'a' seen him
last week," the boy said to himself, bitter thoughts of Dick Hunt
rising in his heart. At last he turned again to the housekeeper and at
the change in his face her eyes filled with quick tears.
He took from his pocket the little roll of money and held it out,
saying in a low unsteady voice, "You send it to him--an' tell
him--won't you?"
"I'll write him all about it," the housekeeper repeated, "and don't
you be discouraged, dear.
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