When the first delight of his meeting with his grandfather was past, Richard went in to see Arthur. He had been all this time with Simon, to whom Richard had sent enough saved from his allowance to prevent him from being a burden. He looked much better, and was enchanted to see his brother again, and learn the good news of his recognition by his father.

“Is Alice still in the old place?” Richard asked. “I haven’t heard of her for some time.”

“Don’t you know?” exclaimed Arthur. “She’s been at the parsonage for months and months! Mrs. Wingfold went and fetched her away from London, to work for her and be near me. She’s happy now, and says if everybody was as good as her master and mistress, there would be no misery left in the world.”

“I don’t doubt it,” answered Richard. “But I’ve just parted with Mr. Wingfold, and he didn’t say a word about her!”

“When anything has to be done, Mr. Wingfold never forgets, but does it,” said Arthur. “But once he’s done a thing, he forgets all about it, and never mentions it to anyone.”

Richard then inquired eagerly about what Wingfold had done for his brother, and he learned this. First of all he had, by lending him books and talking to him, found out what was his bent and what he was capable of. For months he could hardly wake any interest in him, the poor fellow was so weak and weary. But at last he got him to observe a little. Then he began to set him certain tasks, and as he was an invalid, the first was what he called, “The task of twelve o’clock”—which was, for a quarter of an hour from every noon during a month, to write down what he saw going on in the world.

The first day he had nothing to show—he had seen nothing!

“What were the clouds doing?” Mr. Wingfold asked. “What were the horses in the fields doing? What were the birds you saw doing? What were the ducks and hens doing? Put down whatever you see any creature about.”

The next evening, he went to him again, and asked him for his paper. Arthur handed him a folded sheet.

“Now,” said Mr. Wingfold, “I am going to lay it in one of my drawers, and you must write another for me tomorrow. Then write another, and another. We shall go on like that for a month, and then we shall see something.”