orge painted in
water-colours, and he, too, had once painted in water-colours. He was
moreover expected to judge the drawings as an expert. On Monday he
brought up the most complicated box of water-colours that his shop
contained, and presented it to George, who, astounded, dazed, bore it
away to his bedroom without a single word. Their friendship was sealed
and published; it became a fact recognised by the two families.

THREE.

About a week later, after a visit of a couple of days to Manchester,
Edwin went out into the garden as usual when breakfast was finished, and
discovered George standing on the wall. The boy had learned how to
climb the wall from his own side of it without help.

"I say!" George cried, in a loud, rough, angry voice, as soon as he saw
Edwin at the garden door. "I've got to go off in a minute, you know."

"Go off? Where?"

"Home. Didn't they tell you in your house? Auntie Janet and I came to
your house yesterday, after I'd waited on the wall for you I don't know
how long, and you never came. We came to tell you, but you weren't in.
So we asked Miss Clayhanger to tell you. Didn't Miss Clayhanger tell
you?"

"No," said Edwin. "She must have forgot." It occurred to him that even
the simple and placid Maggie had her personal prejudices, and that one
of them might be against this child. For some reason she did not like
the child. She positively could not have forgotten the child's visit
with Janet. She had merely not troubled to tell him: a touch of that
malice which, though it be as rare as radium, nevertheless exists even
in the most benignant natures. Edwin and George exchanged a silent,
puzzled glance.

"Well, that's a nice thing!" said the boy. It was.

"When are you going home?"

"I'm going now! Mr Orgreave has to go to London to-day, and mamma
wrote to Auntie Janet yesterday to say that I must go with him, if he'd
let me, and she would meet me at London. She wants me back. So Auntie
Janet is taking me to Knype to meet Mr Orgreave there--he's gone to his
office first. And the gardener has taken my luggage in the barrow up to
Bleakridge Station. Auntie's putting her hat on. Can't you see I've
got my other clothes on?"

"Yes," said Edwin, "I noticed that."

"And my other hat?"

"Yes."

"I've promised auntie I'll come and put my overcoat on as soon as she
calls me. I say--you wouldn't believe how jammed my trunk is with that
paint box and everything! Aunti