tle
boy what came to speak to Mr. Button, and had his toes through his
boots, and he was so glad.'

'Your money is not for beggars, Wyn.'

'The little boy was not a beggar, papa. He came with a newspaper to
Mr. Button, and he is so good to his poor sick mother,' said Alwyn.
'See, see, sister!' turning the prow of his small vessel towards her,
and showing a word on it in pencil which he required her to spell out.
It was Ursula.

'Oh Wynnie!' she said, duly flattered, 'did Mr. Dutton do that?'

'He held my hand, and I did!' cried Alwyn, triumphantly, 'and he will
paint it on Saturday. Then it will dry all Sunday, and not come off,
so it will be the Ursula for ever and always.'

Here nurse claimed her charge; and when the goodnights were over, and a
murmur recommenced, Nuttie suggested that if Mr. Dutton was at home
perhaps he would come in and make up the game, but she encountered the
old humour. 'I'll tell you what, Ursula, I'll not have that umbrella
fellow encouraged about the house, and if that child is to be made the
medium of communication, I'll put a stop to it.'

The words were spoken just as Gregorio had entered the room with a
handkerchief of his master's. Nuttie, colouring deeply at the insult,
met his triumphant eyes, bit her lips, and deigned no word of reply.

An undefined but very slight odour, that told her of opium smoke,
pervaded the stairs that night. It was the only refuge from
fretfulness; but her heart ached for her father, herself, and most of
all for her little brother. And was she to be cut off from her only
counsellor?

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE LOST HEIR.

'Seemed to the boy some comrade gay
Led him forth to the woods to play.'--SCOTT.

Though it was the Derby day, Mr. Egremont's racing days were over, and
he only took his daughter with him in quest of the spectacles he
wanted. When they came back, Nuttie mounted to the nursery, but no
little brother met her on the stairs, and she found nurse in deep
displeasure with her subordinate.

'I sent him out with Ellen to play in the garden at Springfield, and
swim his ship, where he couldn't come to no harm,' said nurse; 'being
that my foot is that bad I can't walk the length of the street; and
what does the girl do but lets that there Gregorio take the dear child
and go--goodness knows where--without her.'

'I'm sure, ma'am,' said the girl crying, 'I would never have done it,
but Mr. Gregory said as how 'twas his papa's