kick--certainly would not have resented one.

"Allow me, Sir Richard," he said, with some reference to the knight's
hat.

"Hush, Stickler!" said Mrs Twitter.

The black sheep hushed, while the bustling lady took the hat and placed
it on the sideboard.

"Your stick, Sir Richard," said Stickler, "permit--"

"Hold your tongue, Stickler," said Mrs Twitter.

The black sheep held his tongue--between his teeth,--and wished that
some day he might have the opportunity of punching Mrs Twitter's head,
without, if possible, her knowing who did it. Though thus reduced to
silence, he cleared his throat in a demonstratively subservient manner
and awaited his opportunity.

Sir Richard was about to apologise for the intrusion when another knock
was heard at the outer door, and immediately after, the City Missionary,
John Seaward, came in. He evidently did not expect to see company, but,
after a cordial salutation to every one, said that he had called on his
way to the meeting.

"You are heartily welcome. Come in," said Mrs Twitter, looking about
for a chair, "come, sit beside me, Mr Seaward, on the stool. You'll
not object to a humble seat, I know."

"I am afraid," said Sir Richard, "that the meeting has much to answer
for in the way of flooding you with unexpected guests."

"Oh! dear, no, sir, I love unexpected guests--the more unexpected the
more I--Molly, dear," (to her eldest girl), "take all the children
up-stairs."

Mrs Twitter was beginning to get confused in her excitement, but the
last stroke of generalship relieved the threatened block and her
anxieties at the same time.

"But what of Sam?" asked young Welland in a low tone; "any news yet?"

"None," said the poor mother, suddenly losing all her vivacity, and
looking so pitifully miserable that the sympathetic Di incontinently
jumped off her chair, ran up to her, and threw her arms round her neck.

"Dear, darling child," said Mrs Twitter, returning the embrace with
interest.

"But I have brought you news," said the missionary, in a quiet voice
which produced a general hush.

"News!" echoed Twitter with sudden vehemence. "Oh! Mr Seaward,"
exclaimed the poor mother, clasping her hands and turning pale.

"Yes," continued Seaward; "as all here seem to be friends, I may tell
you that Sam has been heard of at last. He has not, indeed, yet been
found, but he has been seen in the company of a man well-known as a
rough disorderly character, but who it seems