. But, did I belong to skin-flint Pike, instead of one slice of
bread to my milk and water, I might chance to get none. My father is the
old Squire, and my name is Anthony Marcus Hurdlestone."

"His father and grandfather's names combined--names of evil omen have
they been to me," sighed the stranger, who was, indeed, no other than
Algernon Hurdlestone, who for eight long years had forgotten the solemn
promise given to Elinor, that he would be a friend and guardian to her
child. Nor would he now have remembered the circumstance, had not his
own spoilt Godfrey been earnestly teasing him for a playmate. "Be a good
boy, Godfrey, and I will bring you home a cousin to be a brother and
playfellow," he said, as his conscience smote him for this long
neglected duty; and ordering his groom to saddle his horse, he rode over
to Oak Hall to treat with the miser for his son.

"Alas!" he thought, "can this neglected child be the son of my beautiful
Elinor, and heir to the richest commoner in England? But the boy
resembles my own dear Godfrey, and, for Elinor's sake, I will try and
rescue him from the barbarous indifference of such a father."

Then, telling the bare-footed urchin that he was his uncle Algernon,
and that he should come to Norgood Hall, and live with him, and have
plenty to eat and drink, and pretty clothes to wear, and a nice pony of
his own to ride, and a sweet little fellow of his own age to play with,
he lifted the astonished and delighted child before him on the saddle,
and was about to proceed to the Hall.

"The Squire does not live at the Hall," said the child, pulling at the
rein, in order to give the horse another direction. "Oh, no; he is _too
poor_ (and he laughed outright) to live there."

"What do you mean, Anthony and why do you call Mr. Hurdlestone the
Squire, instead of papa?"

"He never tells me to call him papa; he never calls me his son, or
'little boy,' or even 'Anthony,' or speaks to me as other fathers speak
to their children. He calls me chit and brat, and rude noisy fellow; and
it's 'Get out of my way, you little wretch! Don't come here to annoy
me.' And how can I call him father or papa, when he treats me as if I
did not belong to him?"

"My dear child, I much fear that you do not love your father."

"How can I, when he does not love me? If he would be kind to me, I would
love him very much; for I have nothing in the world to love but old
Shock, and he's half-starved. But he does love me