go within the reach of his chain any day, and
he will behave to you like a gentleman. Leo is an aristocrat, and never
forgets _noblesse oblige_."

"He is a splendid animal," returned Bessie; and then she noticed the
other dogs. They were all there: Gelert and Brand, and Juno and her
puppies, and Spot and Tim.

"We have been for a long walk," observed Richard, as they turned their
faces homeward. "The dogs have been wild with spirits, and I had some
difficulty with them at first. You see, they make the most of their
weekly holiday."

"What do you do on a wet Sunday?" asked Bessie curiously.

"Well, I smoke a pipe with them in the stable, and so give them the
pleasure of my company. I do hate disappointing dumb animals, Miss
Lambert--they have their feelings as well as we have, and I think we
ought to behave handsomely to them. I remember when I was quite a little
fellow my mother taught me that."

"Your mother!" in some surprise, for somehow Mrs. Sefton never gave
Bessie the impression that her relations with Richard were of the
motherly sort.

"Oh, I mean my then mother," he returned hastily, as though answering
her unspoken thought. "I was very young when she died, but I have never
forgotten her. She was not a lady by birth, you know; only a farmer's or
yeoman's daughter, but there is not a lady living who is prettier or
sweeter than she was."

"I am glad you feel like that to your mother," replied Bessie, in a
sympathetic voice that seemed to ask for further confidence.

Richard Sefton had never spoken of his mother to any one before. What
could have drawn the beloved name from his lips? Was it this girl's
soothing presence, or the stillness of the hour and the quiet beauty of
the scene round him? Richard was impressionable by nature, and possibly
each of these things influenced him. It was a new pleasure to speak to a
kindly listener of the memories that lay hidden in his faithful heart.

"Yes, and yet I was a mere child when I lost her," he went on, and
there was a moved look on his face; "but I remember her as plainly as I
see you now. She was so young and pretty--every one said so. I remember
once, when I was lying in my little cot one night, too hot and feverish
to sleep, that she came up to me in her white gown--it was made of some
shining stuff, silk or satin--and she had a sparkling cross on her neck.
I remember how it flashed in my eyes as she stooped to kiss me, and how
she carried me to the wind