dful of sorry prentice lads? Master Drury, what think you is likely
to happen, forsooth?"

"This varlet messenger, may be, is mistelling the news," said Master
Drury, hoping it might be so, for he had thought the rebel troops well
nigh crushed out.

Maud wondered whether he had heard the news concerning Harry, and looked
across at Mistress Mabel, but that stern, impassive face told nothing,
and Mary's, in its proud resolve, no more; and she dared not utter the
forbidden name before so many, and so went in search of the children, to
ascertain from them what news had come.

She saw in a moment that they had heard both items, for Bessie was
sitting in a corner of the garden crying bitterly, while Bertram was
marching up and down, telling her what he would do to rescue Harry when
he was a man.

[Illustration: BESSIE'S GRIEF FOR HARRY.]

She sat down beside the little girl and tried to comfort her, but Bessie
would not be comforted. "It's very kind of you, Maud," she sobbed, "but
you are not Harry's sister--not a Drury, like Mary and I. If Mary would
only be a little sorry for him, I shouldn't cry so much, but now he's
only got me and Bertram to be sorry."

"Oh, Bessie, think you not that I am sorry, too?" said Maud.

"Yes, you are sorry, Maud, I know," said the little girl, hardly knowing
how to express herself; "but you know you are not his sister, and so he
won't expect you to cry for him."

"Marry, will he not," said Maud, scarce able to keep from laughing. "And
will he expect you to cry for him a great deal?" asked Maud, as the
tears broke out afresh.

"Mary won't," sobbed Bessie; and she seemed bent upon doing her sister's
share for her.

Maud could not help shedding a few tears in company, and Bessie threw
her arms round her neck and kissed her for them. At length Maud said,
"If Harry does not expect me to cry for him, there is something else he
will expect me to do, and that is to comfort his little sister;" and she
took the little girl in her arms, and laid the hot tear-stained cheek
against hers, and whispered gentle loving words, that soothed the
troubled heart. It was just what Harry would have done--just what he
would have her do, she knew, and she did it as though he were near and
watching her.

For the next few days Captain Stanhope was in a restless state of
impatience to ascertain whether the news brought to the village was
correct, but they were not the days of newspapers, and an army might be