d.

"A nasty low place," said the head waiter. "He can't be good for much."

"Master had best look sharp after his bill," chimed in the
under-waiter; while the bar-maid, who was much more liberally-minded,
ejaculated to both--

"Law, there now, it's no odds to you! The gentleman can do what he
likes, can't he? You won't have to go. It's Boots' place!"

So Boots went; and Boots was a very long time, too, for he took care to
have a good look round the show before he delivered the message to Mr
and Mrs Blewcome. Having done which, he volunteered to escort them to
the hotel.

"Go, Jemimar!" said Mr Blewcome, tragically, as usual. "I must not
quit my post!" and, with the air of a martyr, he motioned to Jemima to
start on her mysterious errand. And so the obedient Mrs Blewcome
followed Boots as fast as her breath would suffer her.

Meanwhile Harry had told his long story; incoherently, it is true; but
Doctor Palmer in his letter had explained so much, that his father only
wanted to know what had befallen him since the night he had run away
from school; all of which Harry told him. And then he, in his turn,
gladly and proudly related to his boy all that had taken place at
school. How that he was proved innocent; how Doctor Palmer praised and
spoke highly of him in every way; and how delighted the whole school
had been when the guilty one had been detected, and he righted.

And you may be sure Harry's heart was very glad when he heard all
this--all this that he might have known two years ago. Two years ago,
he could scarcely believe it. Two years is such a long while to the
young.

Afterwards, they spoke of what was nearest to their hearts; the death
that happened far back on that afternoon in June, far away in the
little farm at Wilton by the sea. And Alan made his boy repeat over
and over again all he could remember of those last days, and last words
uttered by the lips that were so dear to them both, and that never were
to touch theirs again. And they had for the time entirely forgotten
about the message sent to the good people of the show; so that when
there came a rap at the door, and Mrs Blewcome entered, Mr Campbell
looked up, and said bluntly--

"Well, ma'am, who are you?"

This was too much for Mrs Blewcome. She had been sent for by "this
man!" and he asked her who she was! She drew herself up, and answered
with dignity:

"Mrs Blewcome! of Blewcome's Royal Menaggery!" and, catching sight of