e put
the finishing touch to her pie-crust, twisting up the edge into her own
particular pattern.

"I don't see why people shouldn't wish for something better when they
have nothing but bad luck," he said.

"I don't think people ever do have nothing but bad luck."

"Yes, they do, and I'm one of them. I hate people who're always
preaching about being contented with one's lot."

"You intend that for me, I suppose," said his aunt, slyly. "All right;
if you weren't out of reach I'd shake the flour dredge over you!"

"No, you know I don't mean you," said the boy, laughing. "And I have
had one stroke of good luck, and that was your asking me to Brenlands."

He went away, and told Valentine the story of Colonel Lawrence.

"I didn't think she knew anything about soldiers."

"She's a wonderful woman!" said Valentine, solemnly. "She knows
everything!"

The following morning, as the two cousins were constructing an advanced
trench in a supposed siege of the cucumber-frame, Helen came out and
handed her brother a letter. Valentine read it, and passed id on to
Jack.

"What d'you think of that?" he asked.

The epistle was a short one, and ran as follows:--

"GRENFORD MANOR,
"_Tuesday_.

"DEAR VALENTINE,--I want five shillings to square the man whose hayrick
we set fire to the other day. If you fellows will give one half-crown,
I'll give the other. Send it me by return certain, or there'll be a
row.--Yours truly,

"RAYMOND FOSBERTON."

"Pooh! I like his cheek!" cried Jack. "At the time he said it was the
sun; and now he says, 'the hayrick _we_ set on fire,' when he knows
perfectly well it was entirely his own doing. I should think he's rich
enough to find the five shillings himself."

"Oh, he's always short of money, and trying to borrow from somebody,"
answered Valentine. "The thing I don't understand is, what good five
shillings can be; the man would want more than that for his hay."

"I don't understand Master Raymond," said Jack. "What shall you do?"

"Well, as we were all there together, I suppose we ought to try to help
him out. The damage ought to be made good; I thought he would have got
Uncle Fosberton to do that. I'll send him the money; though I should
like to know how he's going to square the man with five shillings."

A description of half the pleasures and merry-making that went to make
up a holiday at Brenlands would need a book to itself, and it would
therefore be impossible