t asleep on the water; nor in the yard, except
Paul Blackthorn, who had come down from his perch to drive the horses in
from the home-field, and shut the stable up for the night.

She could not help stopping a moment at the gate, and calling out to Paul
to ask whether he had seen anything of Harold. He seemed to have a great
mind not to hear, and turned very slowly with his shoulder towards her,
making a sound like 'Eh?' as if to ask what she said.

'Have you seen my boy Harold?'

'I saw him in the morning.'

'Have you not seen him since? Didn't he go to church with you?'

'No; I don't go to Sunday school.'

'Was he there?'

She did not receive any answer.

'Do you know if many of the boys are gone to the merry orchard?'

'Ay.'

'Well, you are a good lad not to be one of them.'

'Hadn't got any money,' said Paul gruffly; but Mrs. King thought he said
so chiefly from dislike to be praised, and that there had been some
principle as well as poverty to keep him away.

'It might be better if no one had it on a Sunday,' she could not help
sighing out as she looked anxiously along the lane ere turning in, and
then said, 'My good lad, I don't want to get you to be telling tales, but
it would set my heart at rest, and his poor brother's up there, if you
could tell me he is not gone to Briar Alley.'

Paul turned up his face from the gate upon which he was leaning his
elbows, and gazed for a moment at her sad, meek, anxious face, then
exclaimed, 'I can't think how he could!'

Poor Paul! was it not crossing him how impossible it would seem to do
anything to vex one who so cared for him?

'Then he is gone,' she said mournfully.

'They were all at him,' said Paul; 'and he said he'd never seen what it
was like. Please don't take on, Missus; he's right kind and
good-hearted, and wanted to treat me.'

'I had rather he had hearkened to you, my boy,' said Mrs. King.

'I don't know why he should do that,' said Paul, perhaps meaning that a
boy who heeded not such a mother would certainly heed no one else. 'But
please, Missus,' he added, 'don't beat him, for you made me tell on him.'

'Beat him! no,' said Mrs. King, with a sad smile; 'he's too big a boy for
me to manage that way. I can't do more than grieve if he lets himself be
led away.'

'Then I'd like to beat him myself if he grieves you!' burst out Paul,
doubling up his brown fist with indignation.

'But you won't,' said Mrs. King gently; 'I don't want to