e between you."

"If nobody comes to save us," said Oliver, calmly, "I do not see what
good this money and these fine clothes will do to Roger and you."

"Roger and me! Pray what do you mean by that?"

"I mean that you and he are for taking these things that do not belong
to us; and Mildred and I are against it. Only tell me this one thing,
Ailwin. Do you believe that your cloak and stockings were sent in Nan
Redfurn's way, that she might take them? And do you think it would have
been perverse in her not to run away with them?"

"Now, Oliver, what nonsense you talk! As if I wanted a rag of these
things for my own wear! As if I would touch a penny that was not
honestly got!"

"So I always thought before; and so I shall think now, if you will help
Mildred to dry whatever is damp, and then pack all away safely--all but
such things as may do poor Geordie good."

Roger was not long in finding a hole in a tree where he could hide his
bag of money. He cut a small cross in the bark by which he might know
the tree again, and hastened back, to see what else he could secure. He
found plenty of pretty things hanging on the bushes, and did not wait
for their being quite dry to dress himself as he had never been dressed
before. With the embroidered cap above mentioned on his head, a scarlet
waistcoat, worked with silver thread, hanging loose about his body, and
a light blue coat, whose skirts reached his heels, he looked so little
like the dirty ragged Roger, that Geordie shrank back from him, at first
sight, and did not smile till he heard the soft whistle again. After
that, he seemed more pleased with the finery than all the rest of the
party together. Ailwin glanced scornfully upon it, as if she had
disapproved from the beginning its being touched; and Oliver and Mildred
looked grave.

So very much pleased was Geordie with the gay waistcoat, that Roger took
him into his arms, that he might be able to stroke it, and play with the
silver flowers. It was little fatigue, now, except to the spirits, to
nurse poor George. He was shrunk to skin and bone, and so light as to
startle those who had been accustomed to lift him. It was grievous,
however, to look at the ghastly stretched features, the flabby tremulous
little arms, and the suffering expression of countenance. To hear his
feeble cry was worse still. Oliver was really glad to take Mildred away
from seeing and hearing him, as long as the child would be quiet