ndly welcome, serene pastime. The gates of the old
house seemed to shut the wicked world out somehow, and the inhabitants
within to be better, and purer, and kinder than other people. He was
not in love; oh no! not the least, either with saucy Hetty or generous
Theodosia but when the time came for going away, he fastened on both
their hands, and felt an immense regard for them. He thought he should
like to know their brothers, and that they must be fine fellows; and as
for Mrs. Lambert, I believe she was as sentimental at his departure as
if he had been the last volume of Clarissa Harlowe.

"He is very kind and honest," said Theo, gravely, as, looking from the
terrace, they saw him and their father and servants riding away on the
road to Westerham.

"I don't think him stupid at all now," said little Hetty; "and, mamma, I
think, he is very like a swan indeed."

"It felt just like one of the boys going to school," said mamma.

"Just like it," said Theo, sadly.

"I am glad he has got papa to ride with him to Westerham," resumed Miss
Hetty, "and that he bought Farmer Briggs's horse. I don't like his going
to those Castlewood people. I am sure that Madame Bernstein is a wicked
old woman. I expected to see her ride away on her crooked stick."

"Hush, Hetty!"

"Do you think she would float if they tried her in the pond, as poor old
mother Hely did at Elmhurst? The other old woman seemed fond of him--I
mean the one with the fair tour. She looked very melancholy when she
went away; but Madame Bernstein whisked her off with her crutch, and she
was obliged to go. I don't care, Theo. I know she is a wicked woman.
You think everybody good, you do, because you never do anything wrong
yourself."

"My Theo is a good girl," says the mother, looking fondly at both her
daughters.

"Then why do we call her a miserable sinner?"

"We are all so, my love," said mamma.

"What, papa too? You know you don't think so," cries Miss Hester. And to
allow this was almost more than Mrs. Lambert could afford.

"What was that you told John to give to Mr. Warrington's black man?"

Mamma owned, with some shamefacedness, it was a bottle of her cordial
water and a cake which she had bid Betty make. "I feel quite like a
mother to him, my dears, I can't help owning it,--and you know both
our boys still like one of our cakes to take to school or college with
them."

CHAPTER XXIV. From Oakhurst to Tunbridge

Having her lily handkerchie