e Parson; "but I still don't learn how
he got out of the stocks."

Riccabocca then resumed his tale; and, after confessing his own
principal share in Lenny's escape, drew a moving picture of the boy's
shame and honest mortification. "Let us march against Philip!" cried the
Athenians when they heard Demosthenes--

"Let us go at once and comfort the child!" cried the Parson, before
Riccabocca could finish.

With that benevolent intention, all three quickened their pace, and soon
arrived at the widow's cottage. But Lenny had caught sight of their
approach through the window; and not doubting that, in spite of
Riccabocca's intercession, the Parson was come to upbraid, and the
Squire to re-imprison, he darted out by the back way, got amongst the
woods, and lay there _perdu_ all the evening. Nay, it was not till after
dark that his mother--who sat wringing her hands in the little kitchen
and trying in vain to listen to the Parson and Mrs. Dale, who (after
sending in search of the fugitive) had kindly come to console the
mother--heard a timid knock at the door and a nervous fumble at the
latch. She started up, opened the door, and Lenny sprang to her bosom,
and there buried his face, sobbing loud.

"No harm, my boy," said the Parson tenderly; "you have nothing to
fear--all is explained and forgiven."

Lenny looked up, and the veins on his forehead were much swollen. "Sir,"
said he sturdily, "I don't want to be forgiven--I ain't done no wrong.
And--I've been disgraced--and I won't go to school, never no more."

"Hush, Carry!" said the Parson to his wife, who, with the usual
liveliness of her little temper, was about to expostulate. "Good night,
Mrs. Fairfield. I shall come and talk to you to-morrow, Lenny; by that
time you will think better of it."

The Parson then conducted his wife home, and went up to the Hall to
report Lenny's safe return; for the Squire was very uneasy about him,
and had even in person shared the search. As soon as he heard Lenny was
safe--"Well," said the Squire, "let him go the first thing in the
morning to Rood Hall, to ask Master Leslie's pardon, and all will be
right and smooth again."

"A young villain!" cried Frank, with his cheeks the color of scarlet;
"to strike a gentleman and an Etonian, who had just been to call on
_me_! But I wonder Randal let him off so well--any other boy in the
sixth form would have killed him!"

"Frank," said the Parson sternly, "if we all had our deserts, what