He went back to his house with a mingled feeling of jollity and guilt, but the moment he was with his family the face of the boy returned.

Where had he seen him?
Why did the face give him uneasiness?
Why did he permit himself to be puzzled by it?
No reasoning, no diversion could drive it from his mind.

Wherever he turned during the long day and evening that white, scared face obtruded itself upon him.

He had noticed, as the lad lifted his umbrella, that he carried a package of books under his arm, and naturally concluded that, belated by the rain, he was on his way to school.

He determined, therefore, to watch him on the following morning, his own eyes reinforced by those of his oldest boy.
The dark day passed away at last, and things were brought into more homelike order by the wife of the house, so that the evening was cozy and comfortable; and when the street lamps were lighted again and the stars came out, and the north wind sounded its trumpet along the avenue, the spirits of the family rose to the influence.
On the following morning, as soon as he had eaten his breakfast, he, with his boy, took a position at one of the windows, to watch for the lad whose face had so impressed and puzzled him.