So, in course of time, the house over the way was actually taken and furnished. Edie was installed therein as empress; I as her devoted slave—when not otherwise engaged. And, to say truth, even when I was otherwise engaged I always managed to leave my heart at home. Anatomists may, perhaps, be puzzled by this statement. If so—let them be puzzled! Gan-muver was also installed as queen-dowager, in a suite of apartments consisting of one room and a closet.

It was not in Dr McTougall’s nursery alone that the game of Lost and Found was played.

In a little schoolroom, not far distant from our abode, that game was played by Edie—assisted by Robin Slidder and myself—with considerable success.

Robin crossed the street to me—came over, as it were—with Edith the conqueror and our doggie, and afterwards became a most valuable ally in searching for, drawing forth, tempting out and gathering in the lost. He and I sought for them in some of the lowest slums of London. Robin’s knowledge of their haunts and ways, and, his persuasive voice, had influence where none but himself—or some one like him—could have made any impression. We tempted them to our little hall with occasional feasts, in which buns, oranges, raisins, gingerbread, and tea played prominent parts, and when we had gathered them in, Edith came to them, like an angel of light and preached to them the gospel of Jesus, at once by example, tone, look, and word.

Among others who came to our little social meetings was the Slogger. That unpunished criminal not only launched with, apparently, heart and soul into the good cause, but he was the means of inducing many others to come, and when, in after years, his old comrade, Mr Brassey, returned from his enforced residence in foreign parts, the Slogger sought for and found him, and stuck to him with the pertinacity of his bulldog nature until he fairly brought him in.

Thus that good work went on with us. Thus it is going on at the present time in many, many parts of our favoured land, and thus it will go on, with God’s blessing, until His people shall all be gathered into the fold of the Good Shepherd—until that day when the puzzlements and bewilderments of this incomprehensible life shall be cleared up; when we shall be enabled to understand why man has been so long permitted to dwell in the midst of conflicting good and evil, and why he has been required to live on earth by faith and not by sight, trusting in the unquestionable goodness and wisdom of Him who is our Life and our Light.

In all our work, whether temporal or spiritual, we had the help and powerful sympathy of our friend Dr McTougall and his family; also of his friend Dobson, the City man, who was a strong man in more ways than one, and a zealous champion of righteousness—or “rightness,” as he was fond of calling it, in contradistinction to wrongness.

I meant to let fall the curtain at this point but something which I cannot explain induces me to keep it up a few minutes longer, in order to tell you that the little McTougalls grew up to be splendid men and women; that dear old granny is still alive and well, insomuch that she bids fair to become a serene centenarian; that my sweet Edie is now “fair, fat, and forty;” that I am grey and hearty; that Dumps is greyer, and so fat, as well as stiff, that he wags his ridiculous tail with the utmost difficulty; that Brassey and the Slogger have gone into partnership in the green-grocery line round the corner; and that Robin Slidder is no longer a boy, but has become a man and a butler. He is still in our service, and declares that he will never leave it. My firm conviction is that he will keep his word as long as he can.

So now, amiable reader, with regret and the best of wishes, we make our final bow-“wow”—and:

Bid you good-bye, My doggie and I.