ins! Muggins!"

No one had ever been able to say why Abraham Boosey, the publican, had
christened his henchman with an appellation so vulgar, to say the least
of it--so amazingly cacophonous. The man's real name was plain Charles
Bird; but Abraham Boosey had christened him Muggins and Muggins he
remained. Muggins had had some beer and was asleep, for the afternoon was
hot and he had anticipated his "fours."

Short saw his opportunity and darted out of the study to the hall where
the lady and her little girl were waiting while the vicar tried to rouse
the driver of the fly by shouting at him. John blushed again as he passed
close to the woman with the sad eyes; he could not tell why, but the
blood mounted to the very roots of his hair, and for a moment he felt
very foolish.

"I'll wake him up, Mr. Ambrose," he said, running out hatless into the
summer's sun.

"Wake up, you lazy beggar!" he shouted in the ear of the sleeping
Muggins, shaking him violently by the arm as he stood upon the wheel.
Muggins grunted something and smiled rather idiotically. "It was only the
young gentleman's play," he would have said. Bless you! he did not mind
being shaken and screamed at! He slowly turned his horses and brought the
fly up to the door. John walked back and stood waiting.

"Thank you," said the lady in a voice that made his heart jump, as she
came out from under the porch and the vicar helped her to get in. Then it
was the turn of the little girl.

"Good-bye, my dear," said the vicar kindly as he took her hand.

"Good-bye," said the child. Then she hesitated and looked at John, who
was standing beside the clergyman. "Good-bye," she repeated, holding out
her little hand shyly towards him. John took it and grew redder than ever
as he felt that the lady was watching him. Then the little girl blushed
and laughed in her small embarrassment, and climbed into the carriage.

"You will write, then?" asked Mr. Ambrose as he shut the door.

"Yes--and thank you again. You are very, very kind to me," answered the
lady, and John thought that as she spoke there were tears in her voice.
She seemed very unhappy and to John she seemed very beautiful. Muggins
cracked his whip and the fly moved off, leaving the vicar and his pupil
standing together at the iron wicket gate before the house.

"Well? Do you think Angleside got through?" asked Mr. Ambrose, rather
anxiously.

Short said he thought Angleside was safe. He hoped the vicar would