of his gloves; so, telling
Dick to walk his horse, and he would join him in a few minutes, he
returned to the little cottage, and, having recovered his glove just
opposite the gate, was in the act of remounting, when he suddenly
exclaimed, "Holloa! what's that? Well, I never! It can't be, surely!
Yes, it is, and no mistake!"

The sight which called forth these words of surprise from Walter was one
that might naturally astonish him. At the moment when he was about to
spring into his saddle, the cottage door had opened, and out ran a
little boy and girl about four or five years of age, followed by Amos
Huntingdon, who chased them round the little garden, crying out, "I'll
catch you, George; I'll catch you, Polly;" laughing loud as he said so,
while the children rushed forward shouting at the fun. They had gone
thus twice round the paths, when Amos became suddenly aware that he was
being observed by some one on horseback. In an instant he made a rush
for the house, and, as he was vanishing through the porch, a woman's
head and a portion of her dress became visible in the entrance.

Walter paused in utter bewilderment; but the next minute Amos was at his
side, and said, in a hoarse, troubled voice, "Not a word of this,
Walter, not a word of this to any one at home." Walter's only reply to
this at first was a hearty peal of laughter; then he cried out, "All
right, Amos;" and, taking off his hat with affected ceremony, he added,
"My best respects to Mrs Amos, and love to the dear children. Good-
bye." Saying which, without stopping to hear another word from his
brother, whose appealing look might well have touched his heart, he
urged his horse to a canter, and was gone.

Amos did not appear among the family that evening. He had returned home
just before dinner-time, and sent a message into the drawing-room asking
to be excused as he did not feel very well. Miss Huntingdon went up to
his room to see what was amiss, and returned with the report that there
was nothing seriously wrong; that her nephew had a bad sick headache,
and that bed was the best thing at present for him. Mr Huntingdon
asked no further questions, for Amos was not unfrequently kept by
similar attacks from joining the family circle. His father sometimes
thought and called him fanciful, but for the most part left him to do as
he liked, without question or remark. And so it was that Amos had grown
up to manhood without settling down to any profes