in common with at least eight out of every ten
men I know.

"Do you ever hear from your cousin?" Sir Lionel asked one day in
careless tones.

"Polly writes to me sometimes," said I.

"You can show me the next letter you get," said Sir Lionel
condescendingly; which I accordingly did, and thenceforward he saw all
my letters from her. I was soon clever enough to discover that Leo
liked to be asked after by his old friends, and to receive messages
from them, which led me to write to Polly, begging her always to send
"nice messages" to Sir Lionel, as he would then treat me well, and
perhaps give me some of his smoked bacon for breakfast. Her reply was
characteristic:

"MY DEAR REGIE,--"

I shan't send nice messages to Leo. I am sorry you showed
him the letter where I said he was handsome. Handsome is
that handsome does, and if he treats you badly he is very
ugly, and I hate him. If he doesn't give you any bacon, he's
very mean. You may tell him what I say.

"I am your affectionate cousin,

"POLLY."

I was obliged to hide this letter from Leo; but when he asked me if I
had heard from Polly I could not lie to him, and he sent me to
Coventry for withholding the letter. I bore a day and a half of his
silence and neglect; then I could endure it no longer, and showed him
the letter. He was less angry than I expected. He coloured and
laughed, and called me a little fool for writing such stuff to Polly,
and said her answer was just like her. Then he gave me some of the
bacon, and we were good friends again.

But the seal of our friendship was a certain occasion when I saved him
from the only flogging with which he was ever threatened.

He was unjustly believed to be concerned in an insolent breach of
certain orders, and was sentenced to a flogging which was really the
due of another lad whom he was too proud to betray. He would not even
condescend to remonstrate with the boy who was meanly allowing him to
suffer, and betrayed his anguish in the matter so little that I doubt
if the real culprit (who never was a week unflogged himself) had any
idea what the punishment was to poor Leo.

He hid himself from us all; but in the evening I got into his room,
where I found him, pale and silent, putting some things into a little
bag.

"Little one!" he cried, "I know you can keep a secret. I want you to
help me off. I'm going to run away."

"Oh Damer!" I cried; "but supposing you're caught; it'll be