CHAPTER III.
His mother came out eagerly to receive him.
His face told her in a moment that something was wrong.
“I’ve lost the place; but that’s my luck. I dreamed an ill dream last night, mother—or maybe I saw a ghost. Take it either way, it scared me out of my senses, and I’m not my own man again yet.”
“Isaac, your face frightens me. Come in to the fire—come in, and tell mother all about it.”
He was as anxious to tell as she was to hear; for it had been his hope, all the way home, that his mother, with her quicker capacity and superior knowledge, might be able to throw some light on the mystery which he could not clear up for himself. His memory of the dream was still mechanically vivid, though his thoughts were entirely confused by it.
His mother’s face grew paler and paler as he
