Tom did not propose to spend his four or five weeks of holiday in idleness. Whilst making his sister's house his headquarters, he determined to revisit such places as lay within reach, and would start off with his knapsack on his back, taking a two or three days' tour at a time.  
"Why can't I walk with you?" Jack asked one day, wistfully. "I'm ever so strong on my legs!"
 
"Not strong enough for that," said Tom, but it set him thinking what to do to brighten Jack's holiday. The boy was manfully doing his best; had reinstated himself in Eva's good graces by a renewal of friendship and a demand for her companionship, but having tasted the strong drink of the fellowship of boys there was no question that to go back to a girl playmate was a little like sipping milk and water. His manner to Aunt Betty changed from the confiding affection of infancy to an obedient deference that she found distinctly attractive, for Uncle Tom was constantly impressing upon him by precept and example, that all women should command gentleness and respect from the masculine sex, so that not again had Betty to complain of rude answers or disobedience. What had passed between Jack and Tom she could only dimly guess, but the result of Tom's treatment was entirely satisfactory.
 
One morning Tom presented himself at the farm quite early in the day.
 
"I've a plan to unfold, and I want your consent before I speak to Jack about it," he said. He had followed Betty to the dairy where she was busy among her milk pans, and stood leaning against the door-post.
 
"Your treatment of him proves so entirely salutary that you have my consent before I even guess what your plan may be," she said, looking up at him with smiling eyes.
 
"That's good hearing. I have hired a horse for a week, and am going to take a riding tour to various townships and outlying farms that are beyond my reach on foot, and I should like to take Jack with me. Is there any pony on the farm that he could borrow?"
 
"Father has let him ride Tim lately. Tim has quieted with age, and though still full of spirit, seldom indulges in tricks. I don't know if the pony could be spared for so long, but it would be so big a joy to Jack that I feel as if father is certain to consent."
 
"Where may your father be found? I'll go and ask him. I want to get off quickly while the day is fairly cool. Meanwhile, will you put up in Jack's school knapsack such things as are absolutely needful for a few days' bush riding? Make it as light as you can."
 
"You are accepting father's consent as a foregone conclusion."
 
"I think so; it's his own fault that I do so. He never yet has refused me anything I've asked."
 
Jack was nearly wild with joy when, half-an-hour later, he and Tom were trotting down the green lane side by side. He turned in his saddle to wave his cap to Eva and her mother who stood watching their departure from the gate, then settled himself in his seat with a quivering sigh of enjoyment.
 
"It's just splendid of you to have thought of it. Just think of riding with you for a whole week. I wish it were for ever and ever."
 
Tom laughed over Jack's enthusiasm. "I expect we should both get pretty tired of it and of each other then, Jack."
 
"I shouldn't," declared Jack, stoutly, putting Tim into a canter. "I'd never be tired of being with you. You're the jolliest grown-up I've ever seen except father. I'd like to stay with you until I can go to him. It's queer he doesn't want me now. I keep on telling him in every letter how big I am. Where are we going to first?"
 
"I propose to ride first to Jessie's home. We shall drop in there just about dinner-time."
 
"How jolly! We've seen her several times since we saw you. She comes down here about once a year. She's left Wylmington School ever so long, and has gone as second teacher in a girls' school in Launceston, so I don't expect we'll find her."
 
"You forget it will be her holiday time too. I often hear from her, and she seems to have grown quite strong."
 
"Yes, and Aunt Betty says she's pretty," said Jack, who had no opinion of his own about girls' looks at present.
 
The ride for the first eight miles was entirely normal, along beautifully engineered roads which climbed ever up and up by zig-zag courses through the hill forests to Wylmington. Beyond were the falls which in summer-time were a favourite resort for picnic parties, but, leaving them to the right, Tom followed one of the bush roads bearing to the left, which was nothing more than a cart track, in some places almost overgrown, and in others, where more clearing had been done, opened out into a glorious view of surrounding hills. As they rode along Tom told Jack of his experience the last time he had passed that way in a gale of wind and rain, and how he had been weather-bound for the night at Woodlands, Jessie's home.
 
"We won't stop there to-night, will we?" asked Jack, whose one idea was to put as great a distance between himself and home as possible.
 
"Oh, no, I want to get on to the next homestead, about ten miles further on, but it will be slow going, as there is little more than a bridle-track to travel by, and we could easily lose our way."
 
"What fun! I hope we shall."
 
"I don't," said Tom. "It's no laughing matter to be lost in the bush. It's a very lonesome spot we are going to, and we shall probably sleep in a shakedown in the barn."
 
Jack gave a joyous laugh of anticipation, but here they were in sight of Woodlands, and he sprang from his pony to open the gate which separated the home clearing from the bush. Before they rode up to the door Jessie had caught a glimpse of them and came running towards them with a radiant face. She had changed from a girl to a young woman and a pretty young woman too, Tom thought, as he dismounted and one of the boys came forward to take his horse.
 
"We'll off-saddle them for an hour or two if we may," he said, "and we've counted on Woodlands hospitality to give us something to eat."
 
"But of course," cried Jessie joyously. "I told mother that the feeling in my bones meant something good was to happen to-day, but I never thought of anything half so good as this."
 
Then came the farmer and his wife to welcome their guests. The family dinner was over and the boys dispersed about the farm, but a meal of sorts should be ready in a brace of shakes, and the "nipper" looked ready for it, which the nipper was, for the ride had given him a hearty appetite. And whilst Jessie flitted to and fro in hospitable preparation, Tom noticed the stamp of refinement which illness had left upon her, but there was something more than refinement written on her face—a certain radiance which he accepted as the outward manifestation of an inward grace, a heart at peace with God and all the world.
 
"You found the right work for the girl," said the farmer, following the direction of Tom's eyes. "She just dotes on her teaching, and gets on well with it. We shall have her up here some day, I expect, setting us all to rights as school-teacher at Wylmington."
 
"Not yet, father," laughed Jessie, shaking her finger at him. "I want to know ever so much more before I try for a school of my own."
 
"And will it be a school in the bush when that time comes?" Tom asked. "Time was when you did not like the Bush much."
 
"I don't know; being away from them all makes you long to be back, though a town school, where I am now, teaches you a lot about discipline and such things, but sometimes now I think I'll get back to the country, where you can get to know all your children and love them and have care of them out of school as well as in it. And one can do something for the church in these country places. I'm learning to play the harmonium, and I could play perhaps on Sundays when we have service. There's no one to do it now, not even anyone who can lead the singing. Don't you remember how you said once that it was a clergyman's work to set the machinery in a place going, the spiritual machinery, and the work of the people to keep it alive and active?"
 
"Did I say that? You can't expect me to remember all I said four years ago."
 
"But I remember, because you were the first one to talk to me about the church's order. You said most people left their religion to chance and odd times, and we ought to be as careful over it as over our other work."
 
"You were an attentive pupil, it seems," said Tom, smiling at her.
 
"Because you put things clearly so that I could understand them," said Jessie simply. "When you went away and I could not talk to you any more, I wrote down a good many things you said, so as to teach them to my class in the Sunday School."
 
"Then you are a Sunday School teacher?"
 
"Oh, yes, for over three years now. I love it best of any of my teaching, and the Sunday School is all alive where I am now. Here I found it very difficult to get the children to care."
 
Jack had slipped away with Jessie's father to see a fresh brood of chickens, which gave Tom an opportunity of some talk with Jessie about her work, but presently he looked at his ............