There was nothing for him there.

Though he hardly expected any letter yet, his heart sunk as he thought what news might possibly be on its way to him at that moment.

The image of Forrester as he lay on the football field haunted him constantly, and he would have given all the world even then to know that he was alive.

Hope, however, came to his rescue, and helped him for a time to shake off the weight of his heart, and address himself boldly to the enterprise he had in hand.
That enterprise the acute reader has easily guessed.

He would offer his services to the worthy Mrs Trimble, _vice_ Mr Fison, resigned.