“But, my dear,” answered Mrs. Hales, who always made the best of every one, “you forget how very bad the roads must be, after all the rain we have had. And I am sure he will want a cup of tea after riding through such flooded roads.” “Tea, indeed!” the parson muttered, as he strode in and out of the room, with his shot-belt dancing on his velveteen shooting-coat, and snapped his powder-flask impatiently; “Steenie’s tea comes from the case, not the caddy. And the first gleam of sunshine I’ve seen for a week, after that heavy gale last night. It will rain before twelve o’clock, for a guinea. Cecil, run and see if you can find that boy Bonny. I shall start by myself, and send Bonny down the road with a message for Captain Chapman.” “The huntsman came out of the back-kitchen, Cecil, about two minutes ago,” said Madge, who never missed a chance of a cut at Bonny, because he had thrashed her pet Bible-scholar; “he was routing about, with his red coat on, for scraps of yellow soap and candle-ends.” “What a story!” cried Cecil, who was Bonny’s champion, being his schoolmistress; “I wish your Dick was half as good a boy. He gets honester every day almost. I’ll send him to you, papa, in two seconds. I suppose you’ll speak to him at the side-door.” At a nod from her father, away she ran, while Madge followed slowly to help in the search; and finding that the boy had left the house, they took different paths in the garden to seek him, or overtake him on his homeward way. In a few moments Cecil, as she passed some laurels, held up her hand to recall her sister, and crossed the grass towards her very softly, with finger on lip and a mysterious look. “Hush! and come here very quietly,” she whispered; “I’ll show you something as good as a play.” Then the two girls peeped through the laurel-bush, and watched with great interest what was going on. In an alley of the kitchen-garden sat Bonny upon an old sea-kale pot, clad in his red coat and white breeches, and deeply meditating. Before him, upon an espalier tree, hung a tempting and beautiful apple, a scarlet pearmain, with its sleek sides glistening in the slant of the sunbeams. “I’ll lay you a shilling he steals it,” Madge whispered into the ear of her sister. “Done,” replied Cecil, with her hand before her mouth. Meanwhile Bonny was giving them the benefit of his train of reasoning. His mouth was wide open, and his eyes very bright, and his forehead a field of perplexity. “They’s all agrubbing in the house,” he reflected; “and they ain’t been and offered me a bit to-day. There’s ever so many more on the tree; and they locked up the scullery cupboard; and one on ’em called me a little warmint; and they tuck the key out of the beertap.”