or that; and I can be as close as wax when I like. You may trust
me, ma'am, and he'd tell you the same if he was here."

"And what may your name be, friend?" asked the woman.

"Well," he replied, "the quality calls me `Harry;' but every one else
calls me Mr Frazer,--at least when they behaves as they ought to do. I
am butler at Flixworth Manor, that's Mr Amos Huntingdon's home; and
I've been in the family's service more nor fifty years come next
Christmas, so it ain't likely as I'd wish to do any on 'em any harm."

"Well, Mr Frazer," said the woman, opening the door, "come in then; the
fact is, I am almost as puzzled to know where Mr Amos is as you are. I
have been expecting him all the morning, and he may be here any minute.
But pray come in and wait a bit."

Accepting the invitation, Harry stepped into a neat little parlour,
prettily but not expensively furnished. Over the chimney-piece was a
large drawing in water-colours of Flixworth Manor-house, and, on either
side of this, photographs of Mr and Mrs Huntingdon. What could it
mean? But for Harry every other thought was swallowed up in a moment by
his attention being called to a little girl, about four years of age,
who stole into the room, and stood for a while staring at him with one
finger in her mouth, and her head drooping slightly, but not so much as
to hide a pair of lustrous hazel eyes. A neat and beautifully white
pinafore was bound round her waist by a red belt, and a profusion of
glossy brown ringlets fell upon her shoulders. The old man started at
the sight as if he had been shot, and then gazed at the child with open
mouth and raised eyebrows, till the little thing shrank back to the side
of the woman who had opened the door, and hid her little face in her
apron. "It's herself, her very own self," said Harry half out loud, and
with quivering voice; "tell me, ma'am, oh, pray tell me what's this
child's name!"

"Well, Mr Frazer," replied his companion, though evidently with some
hesitation, "I understand that I may trust you. This dear child's names
are Julia Mary, and I am her nurse, employed by Mr Amos to look after
her for him."

"I begin to see it all now," said Harry half to himself. "Don't trouble
yourself, ma'am; I don't need to ask no more questions. I don't want
any one to tell me who Miss Julia's mother is; there can be no doubt
about that, they're as like as two peas; and I begin to see a bit what
Mr Amos has been a-doing. God