en while he sprang up to seize the check-string the door had
opened, the pale sister's face had dropped upon the shoulder of the
figure in the cloak, and he had carried her away; and Melchior stormed
and raved in vain.

"'To take her, and to leave the rest! Cruel! cruel!'

"In his rage and grief, he hardly knew it when the untidy brother was
called, and putting his book under his arm, slipped out of the coach
without looking to the right or left. Presently the coach stopped again;
and when Melchior looked up the door was open, and at it was the fine
man on the fine horse, who was lifting the sister on to the saddle
before him. 'What fool's game are you playing?' said Melchior, angrily.
'I know that man. He is both ill-tempered and a bad character.'

"'You never told her so before,' muttered young Hop-o'-my-thumb.

"'Hold your tongue,' said Melchior. 'I forbade her to talk to him, which
was enough.'

"'I don't want to leave you; but he cares for me, and you don't,' sobbed
the sister; and she was carried away.

"When she had gone, the youngest brother slid down from his corner and
came up to Melchior.

"'We are alone now, brother,' he said; 'let us be good friends. May I
sit on the front seat with you, and have half the rug? I will be very
good and polite, and will have nothing more to do with those fellows, if
you will talk to me.'

"Now Melchior really rather liked the idea; but as his brother seemed to
be in a submissive mood, he thought he would take the opportunity of
giving him a good lecture, and would then graciously relent and forgive.
So he began by asking him if he thought that he was fit company for him
(Melchior), what he thought that gentlefolks would say to a boy who had
been playing with such youths as young Hop-o'-my-thumb had, and whether
the said youths were not scoundrels? And when the boy refused to say
that they were, (for they had been kind to him,) Melchior said that his
tastes were evidently as bad as ever, and even hinted at the old
transportation threat. This was too much; the boy went angrily back to
his window corner, and Melchior--like too many of us!--lost the
opportunity of making peace for the sake of wagging his own tongue.

"'But he will come round in a few minutes,' he thought. A few minutes
passed, however, and there was no sign. A few minutes more, and there
was a noise, a shout; Melchior looked up, and saw that the boy had
jumped through the open window into the road, and h