"I may as well explain at once, Mr Huntingdon," he began, "how I came to communicate with you in a way somewhat uncommon. The fact is, that I have reasons for not wishing to make myself known more than I can help to the good people in these parts. Now, had I sent you my note by the hand of any messenger, this would have drawn attention to myself, and might have led to inquiries about me which are not just now convenient. I was quite sure that yourself, or some one belonging to you, would be searching up and down the lanes for the little boy, and that his silk handkerchief, placed where I put it, would attract notice, and the note tied up in it be conveyed to yourself without my appearing personally on the scene. And so it has turned out. You have read my note, I see; and no one has been in communication with the writer but yourself. This is as it should be. And now, may I ask, do you know me? or at any rate, do you guess who I am? for we have not seen each other, I believe, before yesterday evening." "I do not know your name," replied Amos sadly; "but I cannot say that I have no suspicion as to who you are." "Exactly so," replied the other; "I am, in fact, none other than your brother-in-law, or, if you like it better, your sister Julia's husband." "I have feared so," replied Amos. "Feared!" exclaimed his companion in a tone of displeasure. "Well, be it so. I am aware that our marriage was not to the taste of the Huntingdons, so we have kept out of the way of the family as much as possible; and, indeed, I believe that your father has never even known the name of his daughter's husband, but simply the fact of her marriage." "I believe so," said Amos; "at any rate, all that has been known by the family generally has been that she married"--here he hesitated; but the other immediately added,-- "Beneath her, you would say. Be it so, again. Well, you may as well know my name yourself, at any rate, for convenience' sake. It is, at your service, Orlando Vivian. Shall I go on?" "If you please." "You are aware, then, of course, that I deserted your sister, as it is called, for a time; the fact being, that we discovered after marriage that our tastes and habits of thought were very dissimilar, and that we should be happier apart, at least for a season. And in the meantime you stepped in, and have acted very nobly, I must say, in taking charge of my two little children, for which I must tender you my best thanks." There was a brief pause, and then Amos inquired anxiously, "Is it your intention to take the children from me?" "Well, not necessarily, but perhaps so; certainly not the girl, at present, unless you yourself wish it." "And the boy?" asked Amos. "Ah, I have not quite made up my mind about him," was the reply. "It may be that I shall keep him with me, and bring him up to my own profession." "And what may that profession be?" asked the other. "The stage," was the reply.