go. Fancy me a-kissing Cind--I means Sue. No,
young un, I hasn't the wery least hobjection in life. I'll give her two
resounding smacks the wery minute as I sees her. Lor'! it will be fine
fun. Now, good-bye. I'll come and see yer soon agen.--Good-bye, my
beauty. I only wishes as it wor _you_ I wor axed ter kiss.--Good-bye,
Giles. I'll remember wot yer said 'bout that 'ere cottage."

"Be sure as the winders is big enough fur me to see the stars," called
out Giles after him.

CHAPTER XXIII.

AMATEUR DETECTIVE.

Mrs. Price had been blessed by nature with two sons, each as different
in manners, disposition, appearance, and tastes as the poles. William,
aged twenty, was dark, quiet-looking, with a grave and kind face. In
disposition he was as fine a fellow as ever breathed, thoughtful for
others, good to all, doing his duty because he loved and feared both God
and his mother. He was very reserved, and seldom spoke, but when he did
give utterance to his thoughts they were to the point and worth
listening to. Mrs. Price was often heard to say that the mere presence
of her elder son in the room gave her a sense of repose, that she felt
that she had some one to lean on--which in truth she had.

James, her second and younger son, had not one of his brother's
characteristics; he had no gentle courtesies, no quiet ways. Except when
asleep, he was never known to be still for a moment. One glance at his
fiery head, at his comical face, would show plainly that he was a very
imp of mischief. He was kind-hearted--he would not willingly injure the
smallest living thing--but his wild, ungovernable spirit, his sense of
the ludicrous in all and every circumstance, made him sometimes do
unintentional harm, and his mother had some difficulty in getting him
out of the scrapes into which he was always putting himself. No work he
had ever done had so delighted the boyish heart of James Price, _alias_
Pickles, as the capture of Sue from the hands of the police. The whole
story had a certain flavor about it which would be sure to captivate
such a nature as his. Sue was innocent; he was quite certain of that.
But then, as certainly some one else was guilty. Here, then, was a work
after his own heart; he would find out who the guilty party was. He had
a great deal of the detective about him; indeed, he had almost resolved
to join that body when he was grown-up.

He had brought Sue to his mother; and his mother, too, believing in the