g
to Elbury.

'My! he looks quite respectable,' cried Charles, running back a little
way to look at him.

'I wonder if Mr. Cope will know him?' exclaimed Harold, jumping leap-frog
fashion on George Grant's back.

'The maids will take him for some strange gentleman,' exclaimed Jem
Hayward; 'and why, bless me, he's washed, I do declare!' as a streak of
light from the door fell on Paul's visage.

'No, you don't mean it,' broke out Charles. 'Let's look! yes, I protest,
why, the old grime between his eyes is gone after all. How did you
manage that, Paul?'

Paul rather uneasily mumbled something about John Farden, and the boys
clapped their hands, and shouted, so that Alfred, who well knew what was
going on, raised himself on his pillow and laughed. It was rather blunt
treatment for feelings if they were tender, but these were rough warm-
hearted village boys, and it was all their good-nature.

'And where's the grub?' asked Charles importantly, looking about.

'Oh, not far off,' said Harold; and in another moment, he and Charles had
brought in a black coffee-pot, a large mug, some brown sugar, a hunch of
bread, some butter, and a great big smoking sausage.

Paul looked at it, as if he were not quite sure what to do with it. One
boy proceeded to turn in an inordinate quantity of sugar, another to pour
in the brown coffee that sent out a refreshing steam enough to make any
one hungry. George Grant spread the butter, cut the sausage in half, put
it on the bread, and thrust it towards Paul.

'Eat it--s--s,' said Charles, patting Paul on the back. 'Mr. Cope said
you was to, and you must obey your minister.'

'Not all for me?' said Paul, not able to help a pull at the coffee, the
mug warming his fingers the while.

'Oh yes, we've all had our breakfastisses,' said George Grant; 'we are
only come to make you eat yours like a good boy, as Mr. Cope said you
should.'

They stood round, looking rather as they would have done had Paul been an
elephant taking his meal in a show; but not one would hear of helping him
off with a crumb out of Mr. Cope's shilling. George Grant was a big
hungry lad, and his breakfast among nine at home had not been much to
speak of; but savoury as was the sausage, and perfumy as was the coffee,
he would have scorned to take a fragment from that stranger, beg him to
do so as Paul might; and what could not be eaten at that time, with a
good pint of the coffee, was put aside in a safe nook in