er.

"There," exclaimed Jane, "what are you teasing the little one so for?
why not let him have his own way and come amongst us, if he will?"

"Well, go," said Marten angrily, "go, Reuben, if you like; but I tell
you I will not come with you."

But this was not what Reuben desired, and he stood at a little distance
from his brother looking, I am sorry to say, very naughty and selfish,
for he was really wishing Marten to give up his own desires to attend to
and humour his; and so now he stood moving neither one way nor another,
his face turned towards the lamb so finely bedecked with flowers. His
cry, however, had aroused the young girls from their occupation, and
Mary Roscoe, whom one would have supposed had been really kissing the
lamb, so close was her face to it, when Marten had first seen her;
sprang from her knees, and running across the lawn to the gravel path,
now stooped down to Reuben, and looking him kindly in the face--"Little
boy," she said, "what did you cry for? what did you want? tell me,
little boy, and I will see what I can do. I am a fairy, little boy. We
are all fairies on that turf, and I will take you with me to fairy land
and shew you some fairy wonders."

Reuben at once and without hesitation put his hand in hers, saying--"Me
go see pretty lamb me go with you--me will go."

"Then come along," said Mary, and turning her head over her shoulder
towards Marten, she added, "I will take care of him; so you may go to
Edward and William if you like, and I dare say you will like it better
than playing with girls."

"Oh! thank you, Miss Mary, thank you," replied Marten most gratefully to
the kind little girl, "thank you, I am so much obliged to you."

But Marten spoke aloud, and thus drew Reuben's attention to the fact
that he was going to be left with strangers, and once more he raised a
cry as much of passion as of fear. So Marten, to soothe him, made a step
towards the lawn with the child, though Mary still held his hand,
giving a private sign to Marten that he might slip away on the first
opportunity.

"Your tribute, your tribute," exclaimed Jane Roscoe: "not one step upon
the grass, Master Mortimer, without giving up your cap as a sign you own
us 'The ladies of the lawn.' Give it up, I command, or stay where you
are."

"Will you give it me again in a minute or two, as I come back," asked
Marten?

"Ask Frank Farleigh there if he has got his," said Jane. "You shall have
yours when he has fou