eady." So spoke Jerry Smith, the owner of the
cottage in the woods, and of a ghost to boot, if the lads of the
neighbourhood could be believed, coming up behind the distracted
father, and speaking over his shoulder.

"Then Heaven be praised!" returned he out of the depth of his heart,
turning and grasping the old man's hand.

"Ay! I have 'em all safe--ha-ha!" laughed the old man, glancing up at
his chamber window, which looked westward, where stood a wooden
figure of a miniature North American Indian all in his war paint, and
brandishing his knives like a very brave, as the wind caught him and
whirled him round.

"And see, Master Lester, I've mounted my savage to amuse them when
they wake--my ghost the youngsters about here call it, and keep clear
of my house. Ghost, indeed! there are no ghosts."

"No; the world is getting too wise to believe such nonsense in our
days, Jerry. But I'd like to take a look at my youngsters," quoth
John Lester.

The old man led him in--Ben following on tip-toe--and up to his
quaint chamber--ah! yes, it was very quaint and pretty, full of
wonderful surprises, what with curious stones arranged here, a
stuffed squirrel there, and a dormouse elsewhere. Then in one corner
was a fleet of tiny ships--ah! Jerry had been a sailor in his
youthful days--which sailed round and round a centre one and
stationary by using an apparatus not unlike small bellows. And there
in the west window stood the warrior Indian, chopping and cutting at
imaginary foes among the sunbeams. But the father's eyes sought his
children. Ah! yes, he was thankful to see, there they were, both
sweetly sleeping, Mab in the old man's bed, a stray sunbeam flitting
over her face, like a smile from somewhere, Jack wrapped in blankets
on the floor.

The sweet after-glow was about the house ere they awoke, and then
peals of laughter from both children brought old Jerry up his
creaking stairs. Nay, Jack was out on the landing, hurrying out of
his blankets and into the dry clothes Ben had brought him from home.

When the two children had dressed and descended the stairs, there, in
the cosy little kitchen, stood tea ready for them--bread-and-butter
and blackberry jam, and such old-fashioned china cups and saucers for
the three young ones to drink from. What is more, there was a pair of
curiously-worked bead slippers for Mab, and a bow and arrow for each
of the boys.

"Ingins' work," the old man told them when they thanked him.