time I left
him--woke him from his balmy slumber, and kissed him."

"Oh, yes, we know all about that," observed Barbara. "It was quite dusk,
mamma, and Johnnie had stuck up the kitchenmaid's great mop, leaning
against the roof of Blob's kennel, where he often sits when he is sulky.
We all went to see the fun, and Cray thrust his face into it. It looked
just like Blob's head."

"I'm sure I don't know what A.J. Mortimer could see of a military nature
in that tender incident," said Crayshaw, with great mildness. "I did
not expect, after our long friendship, to have a Latin verse written
upon me, and called 'The Blunderbuss.'"

Crayshaw had grown into a handsome young fellow, and looked old for his
years, and manly, though he was short. He had quite lost his former air
of delicate health, and, though sorry to part with the young Mortimers,
could not conceal a certain exultation in the thought of leaving school,
and returning to his native country.

"Scroggins has been growing faster than ever," he said, half-enviously.
"Whenever he gets from under my eyes he takes advantage of it to run
up."

Emily remonstrated. "I don't like to hear you call Johnnie 'Scroggins.'"

"Oh, that's only my poetical way; the old poets frequently did it.
'Lines to his Mistress, Eliza Wheeler, under the name of Amaryllis.' You
often see that kind of thing. In the same way I write to my chum, A.J.
Mortimer, under the name of Scroggins. 'Scroggins, of vertuous father
vertuous son.' I think it sounds extremely well."

Valentine was very well pleased the next afternoon to find himself
sitting among a posse of young Mortimers and Crayshaw, under the great
pear and apple trees, the latter just coming out to join their blossom
to that of their more forward neighbours. It was his nature to laugh and
make laugh, and his character to love youth, his own being peculiarly
youthful. His usual frame of mind was repentant and humble, and he was
very grateful for the apparent removal of illness. He was soon to be
well, and hope and joy woke up in his heart, and came forth to meet the
spring.

John Mortimer and Emily sat near enough, without joining the group, to
catch the conversation, when they chose to listen. John was peculiarly
grave and silent, and Emily was touched for the supposed cause.
Valentine was the only relation left who had lived in his presence. She
knew he had almost a brother's affection and partial preference for
him. She knew that he