It was signalized to Frank only by the despatch of a pretty present to Lucy, and the receipt of a letter from her written in a round childish hand.

A week afterwards he heard somebody come into the shop.

His employer was out, and he therefore went into the shop.
"I knew it was!" shouted a voice.

"My dear old Frank, how are you ?" and his hand was warmly clasped in that of Ruthven.
"My dear Ruthven," was all Frank could say.
"I had intended," Ruthven exclaimed, "to punch your head directly I found you; but I am too glad to do it, though you deserve it fifty times over.

What a fellow you are! I wouldn't have believed it of you, running away in that secret sort of way and letting none of us know anything about you.