It became a common thing for the two girls to go out together in the long summer evenings, when the work of the day was over, and stroll along the country roads, or venture into the cool shadow of the Beaminster woods. Sometimes the children went with them: sometimes Janetta and Nora went alone. And it was when they were alone one evening that a somewhat unexpected incident came to pass. The Beaminster woods ran for some distance in a northerly direction beyond Beaminster, and there was a point where only a wire fence divided them from the grounds of Brand Hall. Near this fence Janetta and her sister found themselves one evening--not that they had purposed to reach the boundary, but that they had strayed a little from the beaten path. As they neared the fence they looked at each other and laughed. "I did not know that we were so near the lordly dwelling of your relations!" said Nora, who loved to tease, and knew that she could always rouse Janetta's indignation by a reference to her "fine friends." "I did not know either," returned Janetta, good-humoredly. "We can see the house a little. Look at the great red chimneys." "I have been over it," said Nora, contemptuously. "It's a poor little place, after all--saving your presence, Netta! I wonder if the Brands mean to acknowledge your existence? They----" She stopped short, for her foot had caught on something, and she nearly stumbled. Janetta stopped also, and the two sisters uttered a sudden cry of surprise. For what Nora had stumbled over was a wooden horse--a child's broken toy--and deep in the bracken before them, with one hand beneath his flushed and dimpled cheek, there lay the loveliest of all objects--a sleeping child. CHAPTER VII. NORA'S NEW ACQUAINTANCE. "He must have lost his way," said Janetta, bending over him. "Poor little fellow!" "He's a pretty little boy," said Nora, carelessly. "His nurse or his mother or somebody will be near, I dare say--perhaps gone up to the house. Shall I look about?" "Wait a minute--he is awake--he will tell us who he is." The child, roused by the sound of voices, turned a little, stretched himself, then opened his great dark eyes, and fixed them full on Janetta's face. What he saw there must have reassured him, for a dreamy smile came to his lips, and he stretched out his little hands to her. "You darling!" cried Janetta. "Where did you come from, dear? What is your name?" The boy raised himself and looked about him. He looked about five years old, and was a remarkably fine and handsome child. It was in perfectly clear and distinct English--almost free from any trace of baby dialect--that he replied-- "Mammy brought me. She said I should find my father here. I don't want my father," he remarked, decidedly. "Who is your father? What is your name?" Nora asked.