thing left to see; and I am bound to understand that
sort of thing. Ladies, I entreat you not to think me rude, if I go
as soon as ever you can do without me. I think I have got you nearly
everything you want; and perhaps you would rather be without me."

With many thanks and compliments--such a pretty boy he was--the ladies
released him gladly; and then Mrs. Twemlow, having reasons of her own,
drew nigh to Mrs. Stubbard with lively interest in her children. At
first, she received short answers only; for the Captain's wife had drawn
more sour juices than sweet uses from adversity. But the wife of the
man of peace outflanked the better half of the man of war, drove in her
outposts, and secured the key of all her communications.

"I can scarcely believe that you are so kind. My dear Mrs. Twemlow, how
good you are! My Bob is a nice boy, so manly and clever, so gentle and
well-behaved, even when he knows that I am not likely to find him out.
But that you should have noticed it, is what surprises me--so few
people now know the difference! But in the House of God--as you so well
observe--you can very soon see what a boy is. When I tell him that he
may ride your grey pony, I wish you could be there to watch the fine
expression of his face. How he does love dumb animals! It was only last
Saturday, he knocked down a boy nearly three times his own size for
poking a pin into a poor donkey with the fish. And Maggie to have a
flower-bed on your front lawn! They won't let her touch a plant, at our
cottage, though she understands gardening so thoroughly. She won't
sleep a wink to-night, if I tell her, and I had better keep that for the
morning. Poor children! They have had a hard time of it; but they have
come out like pure gold from the fire--I mean as many of them as can use
their legs. But to be on horseback--what will Bob say?"

"You must have met with very little kindness, Mrs. Stubbard, to attach
any importance to such mere trifles. It makes me blush to think that
there can be a spot in England where such children as yours could pass
unnoticed. It is not a question of religious feeling only. Far from
it; in fact, quite the opposite; though my husband, of course, is quite
right in insisting that all our opinions and actions must be referred
to that one standard. But I look at things also from a motherly point
of view, because I have suffered such sad trials. Three dear ones in the
churchyard, and the dearest of all--the Almighty