it is
over in a week, and then we go to Sir Richard's estate."

"I know that, mother, but Martha goes with you there, to help you and
Hetty and Matty to keep house while Tim Lumpy looks after the farm."

"Farm, my boy, what nonsense are you talking?"

"No nonsense, mother, it has all been arranged this morning, early
though it is. Mr Merryboy has received a letter from Sir Richard,
saying that he wants to gather as many people as possible round him, and
offering him one of his farms on good terms, so Mr Merryboy is to sell
this place as soon as he can, and Tim and I have been offered a smaller
farm on still easier terms close to his, and not far from the big farm
that Sir Richard has given to his son-in-law Mr Welland--"

"Son-in-law!" exclaimed Mrs Frog. "Do you mean to say that Mr
Welland, who used to come down an' preach in the lodgin'-'ouses in
Spitalfields 'as married that sweet hangel Miss Di?"

"I do mean that, mother. I could easily show him a superior angel, of
course," said Bob with a steady look at Martha, "but he has done pretty
well, on the whole."

"Pretty well!" echoed Mrs Frog indignantly; "he couldn't 'ave done
better if 'e'd searched the wide world over."

"There I don't agree with you," returned her son; "however, it don't
matter--Hallo! there goes granny down the wrong path!"

Bob dashed off at full speed after Mrs Merryboy, senior, who had an
inveterate tendency, when attempting to reach Mrs Frog's bower, to take
a wrong turn, and pursue a path which led from the garden to a pretty
extensive piece of forest-land behind. The blithe old lady was posting
along this track in a tremulo-tottering way when captured by Bob. At
the same moment the breakfast-bell rang; Mr Merryboy's stentorian voice
was immediately heard in concert; silvery shouts from the forest-land
alluded to told where Hetty and Matty had been wandering, and a rush of
pattering feet announced that the dogs of the farm were bent on being
first to bid the old gentleman good-morning.

As Bob Frog had said, the following day found him far on his way to the
sea-coast. A few days later found him on the sea,--wishing, earnestly,
that he were on the land! Little more than a week after that found him
in London walking down the old familiar Strand towards the city.

As he walked slowly along the crowded thoroughfare, where every brick
seemed familiar and every human being strange, he could not help saying
to himself mentally, "Can