The bright morning of another new year at length arose, clear and piercingly cold, and Henry crept early from his bed, and went down stairs to make the fires as usual.

When Mr.
Sharp at length made his appearance, he looked wishfully and inquiringly into his face, but no notice whatever was taken of him, except to give him some order, in the usual short, rough tone in which he always addressed him.
"Ain't I going home to see my mother to-day, sir ?" was on his tongue, but he feared to utter it.
After breakfast he watched every movement of Mr.Sharp, expecting each moment to see him go out and get the chaise ready to take him to Boston.

But no such idea was in the mind of the thoughtless, unfeeling master.

Nine, ten, and eleven o'clock came and went, and the poor child's anxious heart began to fail him.

Several times he was on the point of recalling to the mind of Mr.Sharp, his promise to his mother that he should be sent home at New Year's, but as often his timid heart caused him to shrink back.