tor
could want the chemicals for, but reflected that as Leonard was old
enough to sign his poison-book in the regular way, and as Mr. Morrison
was a well-known practitioner in the town, there could be no harm done
in letting him have what he wanted.

So Leonard walked home in triumph with the bottles securely wrapped up
in the bag. On his way back he met Taylor walking arm-in-arm with
Curtis, and both smoking cigarettes.

'Hullo, little Morrison!' he said in a patronising tone, as Leonard
stopped them, for they would have passed without noticing him.

'This is a piece of luck!' exclaimed the boy. 'You can take the bag
now, Taylor. The bottles and stuff are in it safe enough.'

'What bottles? What stuff?' he said, stepping back a pace, as if the
proffered bag would bite him.

'You know what it is,' said Leonard in a tone of surprise.

'Oh no, I don't! I know nothing until you bring me the stuff I told
you about. Ta-ta! little Morrison. Don't forget the bag in the
morning;' and the 'cock of the walk' and his friend went on their way
laughing, leaving the boy transfixed with anger and amazement. His
first thought was that he would go and throw the bottles in the canal
just as they were, give Taylor the change out of the half-sovereign,
and tell him where he would find the bottles if he wanted them. He
went so far as to walk down the canal road, but his courage evaporated
before he had gone any distance, and although he was still very angry
over the treatment he had received from his chosen friend, he turned
his steps homeward, still carrying the bottles, but half decided that
he would not take them to Taylor in the morning.

As he was going in at the back gate one of the servants met him.

'Dear me, Mr. Leonard! how you made me jump! There's a telegram come
for you, and Miss Florence has been hunting all over the house to find
you, for the boy said he was to wait for an answer.'

The importance of having a telegram sent to him soothed Leonard's
ruffled feelings, and he hurried in to find his sister and learn what
the message could be. 'Mother and I cannot come home to-night--coming
to-morrow.' This was what the mysterious yellow envelope contained by
way of a message, and Leonard read it with Florence looking over his
shoulder.

'There's no answer to go back,' said Leonard, when he saw Mary looking
at him. 'Go and tell the boy Father has just sent to say that he is
not coming home to-night;' and then he went an