e said to the priest after eyeing the child, and the
gentleman in black shrugged his shoulders.

"Let Blaise take him out for a holiday," and out for a holiday the boy and
the valet went. Harry went jumping along; he was glad enough to go.

He will remember to his life's end the delights of those days. He was
taken to see a play by Monsieur Blaise, in a house a thousand times
greater and finer than the booth at Ealing Fair--and on the next happy day
they took water on the river, and Harry saw London Bridge, with the houses
and booksellers' shops thereon, looking like a street, and the Tower of
London, with the armour, and the great lions and bears in the moats--all
under company of Monsieur Blaise.

Presently, of an early morning, all the party set forth for the country,
namely, my lord viscount and the other gentleman; Monsieur Blaise, and
Harry on a pillion behind them, and two or three men with pistols leading
the baggage-horses. And all along the road the Frenchman told little Harry
stories of brigands, which made the child's hair stand on end, and
terrified him; so that at the great gloomy inn on the road where they lay,
he besought to be allowed to sleep in a room with one of the servants, and
was compassionated by Mr. Holt, the gentleman who travelled with my lord,
and who gave the child a little bed in his chamber.

His artless talk and answers very likely inclined this gentleman in the
boy's favour, for next day Mr. Holt said Harry should ride behind him, and
not with the French lacky; and all along the journey put a thousand
questions to the child--as to his foster-brother and relations at Ealing;
what his old grandfather had taught him; what languages he knew; whether
he could read and write, and sing, and so forth. And Mr. Holt found that
Harry could read and write, and possessed the two languages of French and
English very well; and when he asked Harry about singing, the lad broke
out with a hymn to the tune of Dr. Martin Luther, which set Mr. Holt
a-laughing; and even caused his _grand parrain_ in the laced hat and
periwig to laugh too when Holt told him what the child was singing. For it
appeared that Dr. Martin Luther's hymns were not sung in the churches Mr.
Holt preached at.

"You must never sing that song any more, do you hear, little manikin?"
says my lord viscount, holding up a finger.

"But we will try and teach you a better, Harry." Mr. Holt said; and the
child answered, for he was a docile c