when he would arrive, and at the station he found the Wadsworth sleigh, with Caspar Potts and Jessie Wadsworth awaiting him. The old professor looked hale and hearty, although his form was slightly bent and his hair was gray and white. Jessie, round-cheeked and rosy, was the picture of health and beauty.
"There he is! There's Dave!" cried the miss, and leaped to the sidewalk to shake hands.
"Why, how tall you are getting, Jessie," said the boy, and then blushed, for the handshake she gave him was a very cordial one. "How do you do. Professor?" And he shook hands with the man who had done so much for him in his younger years.
"I am very well indeed, Dave," answered Professor Potts. "Will you sit up here by me, or with Miss Jessie?"
"Dave must come in with me," said Jessie, promptly.
"Did my Uncle Dunston come?" questioned the boy, looking around, for he had fully expected to see his relative.
"No, he has a touch of rheumatism in his left knee," answered Caspar Potts.
"That's too bad."
Dave assisted Jessie to a seat and then got in beside her, and tucked in the handsome fur robe. Off went the team at a spanking gait, past the
