. She
had been trying to persuade William that the boy was her grandchild;
but it was all up with her now; she let the child's hand go, and whilst
he was flying to his father's arms, she disappeared into some
well-known hole or hollow in the neighbouring rocks.

"Who can pretend to describe the feelings of the father when he felt
the arms of his long-lost boy clinging round his neck, and his little
heart beating against his own? or who could say what the mother felt
when she saw her husband come out from the mouth of the valley,
bearing in his arms the little ragged child? Could it be her own--her
Edwy? She could hardly be sure of her happiness till the boy held out
his arms to her, and cried, 'Mamma! mamma!'"

[Illustration: "_Could it be her own--her Edwy? She could hardly be
sure of her happiness._"--Page 202.]

* * * * *

"This story is too short," said Henry; "I wish it had been twice as
long; I want to hear more of that little boy and of the gipsies."

"It is getting very hot," said Emily, when they had done talking; "let
us go into the house, and we will not come out again until it is cool.
I hope we shall not be naughty to-day, Henry, but do what papa and
mamma will think right."

"Come, then," replied Henry. And they went back to the house and spent
the rest of the morning in their play-room: and I am sure that they
were very happy in a quiet way, for Henry was making a grotto of moss
and shells, fixed on a board with paste; and Emily was just beginning
to make a little hermit to be in the grotto, till they both changed
their minds a little, and turned the grotto into a gipsy's hut, and
instead of a hermit an old woman was made to stand at the door.

[Illustration: "Oh Papa! Mamma! Come to Edwy!"]

Further Story of a Holiday

[Illustration: "She will get amongst the shrubs," said Emily]

The evening was very cool and pleasant, when Emily and Henry went out
to play. Mary Bush had given Henry a young magpie; she had taught it to
say a few words, to the great delight of the children. It could say,
"Good morning!" "How do you do?" "Oh, pretty Mag!" "Mag's a hungry."
"Give Mag her dinner." "A bit of meat for poor Mag." To be sure the
bird's words did not come out very clearly. But it was quite enough, as
Henry said, if he understood them.

Mag had a large wicker cage, which generally hung up on a nail in the
kitchen; but her master, being very fond of her company,