icate little
questions just then.

She replied as irrelevantly as ever a lady did. "Oh, you good, brave,
clever boy!" said she.

Then she stopped a moment to kiss him heartily. "I shall never forget
this night, dear. I shall always make excuses for you. Oh, shall we
never get home?"

"We shall be home as soon as they will," said Reginald. "Come on."

He gabbled to her the whole way; but the reader has probably had enough
of his millclack.

Lady Bassett reached home, and had just ordered a large fire in
Compton's bedroom, when Sir Charles came in, bringing the boy.

The lady ran out screaming, and went down on her knees, with her arms
out, as only a mother can stretch them to her child.

There was not a word of scolding that night. He had made her suffer;
but what of that? She had no egotism; she was a true mother. Her boy
had been lost, and was found; and she was the happiest soul in
creation.

But the fathers of these babes in the wood were both intensely
mortified, and took measures to keep those little lovers apart in
future. Richard Bassett locked up his gate: Sir Charles padlocked his;
and they both told their wives they really must be more vigilant. The
poor children, being in disgrace, did not venture to remonstrate! But
they used often to think of each other, and took a liking to the
British Sunday; for then they saw each other in church.

By-and-by even that consolation ceased. Ruperta was sent to school, and
passed her holidays at the sea-side.

To return to Reginald, he was compelled to change his clothes that
evening, but was allowed to sit up, and, when the heads of the house
were a little calmer, became the hero of the night.

Sir Charles, gazing on him with parental pride, said, "Reginald, you
have begun a new life to-day, and begun it well. Let us forget the
past, and start fresh to-day, with the love and gratitude of both your
parents."

The boy hung his head and said nothing in reply.

Lady Bassett came to his assistance. "He will; he will. Don't say a
word about the past. He is a good, brave, beautiful boy, and I adore
him."

"And I like you, mamma," said Reginald graciously.

From that day the boy had a champion in Lady Bassett; and Heaven knows,
she had no sinecure; poor Reginald's virtues were too eccentric to
balance his faults for long together. His parents could not have a
child lost in a wood every day; but good taste and propriety can be
offended every hour when one is