the other
monuments in the church, it was sacred to the memory of members of the
St. John family, and, as I found recorded the names of the wife and
six children of the present owner of the estate. Very pathetic, after
the record of such desolation, were the words of Job (cut below the
bas-relief at the bottom, which, not very gracefully, represented a
broken flower): "The LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away: blessed
be the name of the LORD."

Mr. Clerke was hurrying back up the church to fetch me as I read the
text. I had just time to see that the last two names were the names of
girls, before I had to join him.

Amy and Lucy. Were those indeed the dainty little children who such a
short time ago were living, and busy like myself, happy with the
tinsmith's toys, and sad for a drenched doll? Wild speculations
floated through my head as I followed the tutor, without hearing one
word of what he was saying about tea and teachers, and reaching
Dacrefield before dark.

I had wished to be their brother. Supposing it had been so, and that I
were now withering under the family doom, homesick and sick unto death
"in furrin parts!" My last supposition I thought aloud:

"I suppose they know all the old knights, and those people in ruffs,
with their sons and daughters kneeling behind them, now. That is, if
they were good, and went to heaven."

"_Who_ do you suppose know the people in the ruffs?" asked the
bewildered tutor.

"Amy and Lucy St. John," said I; "the children who died last."

"Well, Regie, you certainly _do_ say _the_ most _sin_gular things,"
said Mr. Clerke.

But that was a speech he often made, with the emphasis as it is given
here.

CHAPTER XXII

NURSE BUNDLE FINDS A VOCATION--RAGGED ROBIN'S WIFE--MRS. BUNDLE'S
IDEAS ON HUSBANDS AND PUBLIC-HOUSES

I was very happy under Mr. Clerke's sway, and yet I was glad to go to
school.

The tutor himself, who had been "on the foundation" at Eton, had
helped to fill me with anticipations of public-school life. It was
decided that I also should go to Eton, but as an oppidan, and becoming
already a partisan of my own part of the school, I often now disputed
conclusions or questioned facts in my tutor's school anecdotes, which
commonly tended to the sole glorification of the "collegers."

I must not omit to mention an interview that about this period took
place between my father and Mrs. Bundle. It was one morning just after
the Eton matter had been se