aid,
significantly; "but don't you never go there, my little gentleman, for
it ain't a nice house."

"The like of him couldn't get no harm--if even, Granny, it was as bad as
you think."

"There is nobody as wouldn't get harm, man or woman, or even children,"
cried Granny dogmatically. "It was the last place as poor Lord Markland
was ever in afore his accident, and who knows----"

Geoff put down his bread and butter. "That's my father," he said. He did
not use the more familiar title when talking to strangers. "Did he know
those people? Perhaps his horses got wild escaping from them."

Mrs. Bagley lifted up her hands in awe and wonder. "My stars!" she said,
"I thought I had seen him before. Lizzie, it's the little lord."

"That is what the lady called me," said Geoff, "as if it was my fault.
Do they set traps there for people who are lords?"

CHAPTER XXII.

It may be supposed what the sight of Theo all bound up and bleeding was
to the family in the Warren. He had not at all the look of a benevolent
deliverer, suffering sweetly from a wound received in the service of
mankind. He had a very pale and angry countenance, and snorted indignant
breath from his dilated nostrils. "It's nothing; a little water will
make it all right," he answered to the eager questions of his mother and
sisters. "Has the brat got here?"

"The brat? What brat? Oh, Theo! You've been knocked down; your coat is
covered with dust. Run for a basin, Chatty, and some lint. You've been
fighting, or something." These cries rose from the different voices
round him, while old Joseph, who had seen from a window the plight in
which his master was, stood gazing, somewhat cynical and very curious,
in the background. The scene was the hall, which has been already
described, and into which all the rooms opened.

"Well," said Theo angrily, "I never said I hadn't. Where's the boy? Little
fool! and his mother will be distracted. Oh, don't bother me with your
bathing. I must go and see after the boy."

"Let me see what is wrong," pleaded Mrs. Warrender. "The boy? Who is it?
Little Markland? Has he run away? Oh, Theo, have patience a moment.
Joseph will run and see. Minnie will put on her hat."

"Running don't suit these legs o' mine," grumbled Joseph, looking at his
thin shanks.

"And what am I to put on my hat for?" cried Minnie. "Let Theo explain.
How can we tell what he wants, if he won't explain?"

"I'll run," said Chatty, who had already br