-the girl whose father had been in prison, and her mother dying in a workhouse, when Miss Pendleton rescued the child from its dreary walls. The boy whom she had never been able to trace was Lucy Forbes' brother Frank. Why she had retained the name of Gordon for little Lucy was known only to herself. They found drawn blinds when at last they reached the house in Campden Hill. Lucy's impatience scarcely noted that. She pulled the bell, and knocked a sounding rap at the door. It was opened by Adelaide, with a solemn, reproachful face. "Good gracious!" she cried. "Where have you been? and why do you knock like that when there's death in the house?" "Death! what? who?" Lucy "Not-" "Yes, Mrs. Coningham." The shock was too great. With a cry of despair Lucy staggered forward, and would have fallen but for Mrs. Hare's timely help. Whitfield's inuendoes had been false and malicious. Lucy knew it now it was too late. The provision made for her was carried out, Mrs. Whitfield for very shame being obliged to consent to what every one else thought so fair; and although Lucy had no right even to this, it was considered by the Hares, Mr. Bailey, and several others, that as Mrs. Coningham really intended it for the Lucy she had known, they would be best carrying out her wishes by settling it so, the more so as Mr. Trevor, who had taken great interest in little Lucy's history, had placed her with the schoolmistress of his parish to be trained as a teacher. It was many a long month before the elder gasped. Lucy began to smile. That she had so cruelly misjudged her kind friend was bad enough, but that she should have died still thinking her so utterly base and ungrateful-caring for her, too, as the open album showed-cut her to the heart. Twenty times a day, when her heart was sore and lonely, she cried out that she should never find such another friend. If only she could know how bitterly repentant she was! But it was too late, too late! Frank was gone, she was gone, and all the world seemed desolate. It was the beginning of a long illness, during which she was conveyed to a hospital by the order of Mrs. Coningham's doctor. When she recovered, it was to find that Mrs. Coningham had left a will, in which she provided for Lucy to be placed in a ladies' school, with an allowance of fifty pounds a year for clothing, until she was twenty-one years of age. The rest of her Lucy proved clever, but she had no longer any pride in her own cleverness. And when people praised her, she remembered how clever she had once been in getting her own way, and how the time had come when she had desired beyond everything to be found out. 66 PER ERHAPS! perhaps! | Johnstone. "And I say he isn't a gentleman, in disguise. What a fellow you are, Graham! It's all those stories. I wish the library was anywhere sometimes. Now it's all 'Ivanhoe' and 'chivalry,' till I'm quite tired of it." "I never said he was anything, Johnstone. I only said you had no business to call him a 'low fellow.' All I do say is, it was awfully good of him to bring the boat up here to ask if any of us had lost one. You saw how frightened he was of us." "Well, he might have kept it himself." "He wouldn't do that. He's a gentleman, Johnstone." He isn't. He took your shilling." "Did you see how red he got, though? I expect he wanted it." "Wanted it! ha ha!" and Johnstone Laughed derisively. "Of course he did. Anybody could take you in, Graham." The colour flew up into the younger boy's face as he shouted, "I say the fellow's a gentleman. I defy you to your face!" "And I say he isn't, Mr. Crusader." "Hullo! What's the row? What's on ?" shouted three or four boys, as they ran up to where Johnstone and Graham were standing. "It's only Kit Graham in a fit of heroics again. I'm sure I hardly know what it's all about," drawled out Johnstone. "You do. You insulted the fellow-grinning at him like an ape. I saw you." Besides, he "He does!" shouted Graham. "I suppose I know what a gentleman is. I defy you to prove that he isn't!" And in a minute Johnstone would have felt something stronger than words, but the tall form of Piers was between them in an instant. "Let's have a tournament. That's in your line, Graham, isn't it? The rain's coming on, so we'll get the fellows into the cloisters, and have a regular pitched battle-Graham against Johnstone." "A tournament! a tournament!" "What weapons?" shouted a boy to Piers. 66 Caps," was the brief response. "What for horses, Piers?" "Well, what is it?" shouted Piers, one of knight Sir Christopher declares that a youth, the prefects. "Explain, explain." Graham held out a boat. "I lost this yesterday. A fellow found it, and brought it here to see if it belonged to one of us-a little chap; and frightened of us he was," added the boy. "And Graham gave him a shilling," broke in name unknown, who restored to him certain properties, is of gentle blood. "The brave and valiant knight Sir Charles declares the said youth to be of low birth. Sir Christopher hereby defies him to his face, and will now do battle with him. Brave and valiant knights, do your I say, what is it?" "Brave and valiant knights, do your devoir, and please excuse mistakes, as this kind of conversation is out of my— "I say, shut up, do!" shouted one of the horses. "This is such a heavy chap that I've got on my back.” The herald dashed down an old glove between the combatants, and shouted out, "There lies his glove. It's rather mouldy, but it's the best I could find." "Shut up, will you?" shouted horse No. 2, "or I shall kick." The horses behaved frightfully after about the first two minutes. Finding it fatiguing to stand while their rather weighty riders buffeted one another with their caps, they suddenly darted off with them, one horse taking one way round the cloisters, his opponent the other, then dashing back again, and coming to the charge furiously. The boys laughed and cheered. Graham kept his temper, and laughed good-humouredly, but it was evident that Johnstone's control over his temper was gone. A tremendous blow from him unseated Graham, and he and his horse went rolling together on the pavement. "Now yield, or die!" shouted Johnstone, jumping off his horse, and rushing on Graham. "Never!" was the answer; and Graham, notwithstanding Johnstone's endeavours to keep him down, was up and wrestling with him in a moment. For a few seconds the victory seemed uncertain, and then Johnstone, giving Christopher one of his tremendous blows, heedless of a warning shout from Piers of, "That's enough of it! Stop that, Johnstone," had the satisfaction of seeing his adversary fall heavily. He was just stooping over Graham with "Yield, or die!" when the firm grip of Piers was on his shoulder, and a stern voice in his ear saying, "What do you mean by disobeying my orders? Out of the cloisters this minute!" "But I've won!" cried Johnstone, loudly. "You've won nothing. I watched you You were unfair throughout. You know ou rules. You spoil any game with your temper You'll understand you must obey a prefect, sir the sooner the better." Piers had dragged Johnstone some distance from Graham, and had been so occupied with him and his breach of prefectorial discipline that he had not heeded Graham's condition. small boy catching hold of him made him turn "Oh, Piers, do come! The big fellow can't get Graham to open his eyes." In a minute Piers was by Christopher's side "Bring water, quick, and call Mr. Grafton He has struck his head in falling." The master was there in a few seconds, and soon they had the great relief of seeing the boy eyes open. He was but stunned for a minute or two, and consciousness returned almost directly. He looked about rather wildly, saying "Where am I? What is it all about?" Then remembering, he cried, "Did I win, Piers? Is the fellow a gentleman ?" "Oh, I'm quite well now, sir," said Graham, getting up and shaking himself. "It's only this stupid giddiness ;" and up went his hand to his head. "That's quite enough," said Mr. Grafto "Do as you're told. Sewell, see him up." And, with the help of Sewell's arm, off went Christopher. "No, Piers," said Mr. Grafton, seeing Piers about to follow. "Please give an account this affair." Piers gave it, softening off Johnstone's share in it a little, and adding, "You can leave him to us, sir. He has disobeyed orders, and he will have to feel it for a time." Mr. Grafton could not forbear a smile as he said, "All right. I fancy I can tell Graham something about this very boy whose doughty champion he has become." A few days later, Graham said to Piers, "Mr. Grafton saw that boy-my boy I mean—in a shop the afternoon of the tournament buying grapes, saying they must be nice, as they were for some one very ill. And he paid a shilling for them. That was what he wanted the shilling for, you see. And Mr. Grafton said he noticed his voice shook when he spoke of the person who wanted the grapes being very ill." Old General Graham was at breakfast at Sefton Court, with his kind old sister at the head of his table. "What's this?" he said, as he opened a letter directed in a large schoolboy hand. "The young rascal! Just listen, Susan. Chris ought to have been an eldest son-that's what I say. He'll carry all before him. Writes as if he knew it, too, the young beggar ! "Dear Grandfather,-You've heaps of fruit in the hothouses, I know. Now you'll do what I want, won't you? Send a hamper of nice fruit and things to a poor sick fellow at Sandcliffe-at least, I mean the fellow's father, not the fellow. He's a nice little chap, with a sick father: a gentleman, and they're very poor. Direct, " B. Edmonds, Esquire, 16, Queen's Road, Sandcliffe. With Gen. Graham's compts.:" like you say when you send presents. Now do, there's a dear grandfather. I'm top of my form. Your loving Christopher.' "There, Susan. I suppose he must have it. See to packing a hamper. Send some fowls, and eggs, and things. Fruit isn't much if they're poor." "Well, I'm sure," said Aunt Susan, "a more generous-hearted, unselfish little fellow never"Ah! but you must remember," said the old general, with a short laugh, "it's my fruit and fowls, after all!" A boy in dreadful peril on a sandbank, where he had waded at low water to find treasures, and had stayed too long. The sandbank fast disappearing, as the tide came rapidly in. Between him and the shore a great rolling sea! It was a half-holiday, and several of the boys had gone to the beach. But Charles Johnstone, for it was he, had gone out of bounds, as it was called, to a lonely part prohibited to any of the school. "I can't swim! And they won't see me, and I shall be drowned." And with a bitter cry the boy held out his hands, as if to entreat for help. Oh, joy! he was seen! Seen by two boys on the cliff. But could they ever reach him in time? Christopher and Piers were down on the beach quicker than any one could have thought possible, and were stripping to swim, when a hand was laid on Christopher's arm. "Not you. I can swim like a duck. I'll go with you, sir," he said to the tall prefect. Christopher, in his agony of anxiety, hardly recognised the boy for whose sake he had fought in the tournament. "Run and fetch a sailor and a boat, and push out after us," he shouted to Chris as he swam off. Piers was a good swimmer, and had won many a prize, but from his inmost soul went up a humble and hearty thanksgiving as a boat swiftly pulled by Chris and a strong sailor reached the sandbank as he clutched Johnstone, and the last strip of shining sand disappeared. His hold on him would have been lost if it had not been for little Edmonds, who seized him almost at the same time. "Well, that there was a plucky swim!" said the sailor. "And I can tell you, my young gent," he said to poor Johnstone, "you wouldn't have been here now if it hadn't been for these here fine chaps. I know you, sir," he said, touching his cap to Piers, "but this here," clapping his hand on Edmonds' shoulder, "is the pluckiest little 'un I ever set eyes on. But row away, row for your life, sir!" turning to Christopher; "they've had a dreadful wetting." Later on, Christopher had the satisfaction of seeing the head bring in Edmonds to the school, and all the boys crowd round to shake hands with him. He said to him, when Edmonds, rather abashed at his reception, took refuge by him-"Why wouldn't you let me swim out? I'm older and bigger. Though I could never," he added, surveying the slight figure of the young boy at his side, "have done what you did." "It's nothing. It comes natural. I've always been used to it. And I would never have let you," said Edmonds, with emphasis. "You"-and he raised his dark eyes to Christopher's face with a look that went to the boy's heart-" you have done you don't know what. I know who that hamper came from. The doctor says good food will save my father's life." |