but
pleasing him, so she answered good-humouredly that Harold must make hay
for them all three to-day, no doubt but he would be pleased enough.

He was heard trotting home at this moment, and whistling as he hitched up
the pony at the gate, and ran in with the letter-bag, to snap up his
breakfast while the letters were sorted.

'Here, let me have them,' called Alfred, and they were glad he should do
it, for he was the quickest of the family at reading handwriting; but he
was often too ill to attend to it, and more often the weary fretfulness
and languor of his state made him dislike to exert himself, so it was apt
to depend on his will or caprice.

'Look sharp, Alf!' hallooed out Harold, rushing up-stairs with the bags
in one hand, and his bread-and-butter in the other. 'If you find a
letter for that there Ragglesford, I don't know what I shall do to you! I
must be back in no time for the hay!'

And he had bounced down-stairs again before Ellen had time to scold him
for making riot enough to shake Alfred to pieces. He was a fine tall
stout boy, with the same large fully open blue eyes, high colour, white
teeth, and light curly hair, as his brother and sister, but he was much
more sunburnt. If you saw him with his coat off, he looked as if he had
red gloves and a red mask on, so much whiter was his skin where it was
covered; and he was very strong for his age, and never had known what
illness was. The brothers were very fond of each other, but since Alfred
had been laid up, they had often been a great trial to each other--the
one seemed as little able to live without making a noise, as the other to
endure the noise he made; and the sight of Harold's activity and the
sound of his feet and voice, vexed the poor helpless sufferer more than
they ought to have done, or than they would had the healthy brother been
less thoughtless in the joy of his strength.

To-day, however, all was smooth. Alfred did not feel every tread of
those bounding limbs like a shock to his poor diseased frame; and he only
laughed as he unlocked the leathern bag, and dealt out the letters,
putting all those for the Lady Jane Selby, Miss Selby, and the servants,
into their own neat little leathern case with the padlock, and sorting
out the rest, with some hope there might be one from Matilda, who was a
very good one to write home. There was none from her, but then there was
none for Ragglesford, and that was unexpected good luck. If the old