ut it was not for long in reality,
though it seemed to him hours, before help reached him. A figure came
rushing across the moor, and a voice called out loudly,

'Who is it? What is the matter? It's not--oh, Master Justin, is it you?
And--no, no, don't say it's the little lady-- I've killed her, I've
killed her. It's all my fault.'

* * * * *

It was in kind old Nance's cottage that the little girl came back to
consciousness. Bob's grandmother was clever and skilful, and, though
sadly alarmed at first, soon saw that the two boys' very natural terror
was greater than need be. The child was in a sort of stupor from cold
and fright and pain too, for her ankle had swelled badly by this time,
from the pressure of her boot. But careful management brought her round,
and she was soon able to look about her and to drink the wonderful herb
tea of some kind which Nance prepared. And then she sat up and explained
what she could of how the misadventure had come to pass, helped by Bob,
whom she glanced at doubtfully, till he said out manfully,

'Tell it all, miss, tell it all. It's me that's to blame, only me.'

But no, it was not only at poor Bob's door that lay the blame, and so
Justin well knew, and so Justin had the honesty to confess when the
anxiety and distress were to some extent past, though for a few days
great care had to be taken of little Rosamond.

It would be difficult to describe the joy with which Uncle Ted carried
her off to the carriage waiting at the nearest point on the road,
wrapped up in his strong arms so that she _couldn't_ get chilled again,
or Aunt Mattie and the Herveys' delight at the happy news of the little
lost one being found. These things are more difficult to _tell_ than to
picture to oneself.

So, too, it would be difficult to relate the change in Justin which
those who cared for him always dated from the night on which Miss Mouse
was lost--the night of which, had worse come of it to the kind little
girl, he would never have been able to think without misery beyond
words.

The ferrets were paid for, of course, though not with Rosamond's money,
which was now happily spent on her Christmas presents. But though paid
for, Justin's pets were soon sold again, and replaced by some more
lovable and attractive creatures, whom his mother and Miss Mouse and
everybody could take pleasure in too. I rather think the new treasures
were some particularly pretty guinea-pigs--