, and
I'll help you every single bit I can."

"That's my good, helpful boy!" said Margaret, heartily. "Oh, Basil, you
and I together can do a great deal, but alone I feel rather helpless.
You shall be my little--no, not little--you shall be my brother, and
tell me how to manage Merton and Susan, and make them love me. But the
first thing is to find Merton. What can have become of the child? Where
shall we look for him?"

"I think perhaps down by the bog," said Basil, looking very important
and pleased with his new responsibility. "He said he was going down
there, first chance he got. I meant to go, too, but I won't if you don't
want me to, Cousin Margaret. There's a bully--"

"Basil!"

"There's a--a superb workman down there; do you know him, Cousin
Margaret? I guess he's the boss, or something. He wears blue overalls
and a blue jumper, and he can vault--oh my! how that fellow can vault!"

"Basil, I don't feel at all sure that your uncle would wish you to be
talking with strange workmen. At any rate, I think you ought to ask
leave, don't you?"

"Maybe I ought!" said Basil, cheerfully. "But it's too late now, you
see, 'cause I have talked to him, quite lots, and he's awfully jolly.
Oh, Jonah! I do believe there he is now; and--Cousin Margaret! I do
believe he's got Mert with him! Look!"

Margaret looked. A man was coming across the field that lay beyond the
garden wall; a workingman, from his blue overalls and jumper; a young
man, from the way he moved, and from his light, springy step. Margaret
could not see his face, but his hair was red; she could see that over
the burden that he carried in his arms.

Coming nearer, this burden was seen to be a child. A chimney-sweeper?
No, for chimney-sweepers are not necessarily wet; do not drip black mud
from head to foot; do not run streams of black bog water.

"Merton!" cried poor Margaret, who knew well the look of that mud and
water. "Oh, what has happened? Is--is he hurt?" she cried out, running
towards the wall.

The young workman raised a cheerful face, streaked with black, and
presenting the appearance of a light-hearted savage in trim for a
funeral.

"Not a bit hurt!" he called in return. "All right, only wet, and a
trifle muddy. Little chap's had a bath, that's all. Hope you haven't
been anxious about him."

"Oh, yes, I have been anxious--thank you! You are sure--he has not been
in danger?"

"Well," the stranger admitted, "just as well I was there, perha