"Where's mother?" cried George, entering the house half an hour later. "She's gone to Mrs. McCurdie's for tea," replied May Gray, the Scotch woman who had been George's nurse. "Then I'll get Mary to come and have tea with me," and Master Byron hurried down the stairs and through his neighbor's gate. He returned shortly, bringing Mary with him; and the children were in the midst of their meal, when the street door was thrown hastily open and Mrs. Byron stepped into the room. Her cheeks were scarlet, and her eyes flashing with excitement. "What is it, mother?" demanded George, rising, alarmed by her visible agitation. Mrs. Byron placed both hands upon his shoulders, and looking down into his eyes, said hurriedly,-- "Your great-uncle, Lord Byron, is dead; and you, George, are now Lord Byron of Rochdale, master of Newstead Abbey, and chief of the Erneis." The boy looked bewildered, and resting one hand upon the table for support, he bent earnestly toward his mother. "_I am Lord Byron?_" "You are! you are! Mrs. McCurdie has just come from Newstead, and she told me that uncle died nearly a month ago. There has been some mistake, else we should have heard of it before. I never knew the old gentleman, for he and poor Jack were not the best of friends, but I cannot think that he would have had us left in ignorance of his death. Doubtless the letters and papers will come very soon, and then, my lord, you can go to England and take possession of your castle." "It--is--very--strange," murmured the boy. Always he had known that some day he would probably come into his uncle's title and estates, but he had somehow expected the momentous event to delay its happening until he should become a man. That honor and riches should at this time come to him, little George Byron, of Broad Street, Aberdeen, was an overwhelming surprise. True to his nature, whenever deeply moved by joy or sorrow, he grew silent, trying to settle in his own mind whether he was the same boy who had thrown clay balls in the woods that day. Mrs. Byron rapidly explained some of the changes to come, and George listened as though stunned by the glories of his prospects. May Gray, his devoted old nurse, slipped out and imparted the news of her dear boy's succession to all whom she met. Presently neighbors and friends came flocking in to hear the story. The drawing-room became quickly crowded with guests, and they made so much of George, shaking his hand, patting his head, bowing to him, and offering compliments he did not understand, that the boy began to think being a lord was rather tiresome business. When they departed, George closed the door upon the last one with a loud sigh of relief, and went in search of Mary, with whom he had not spoken since his mother had arrived with her astounding message. The little girl sat demurely on a low stool, and as George approached her, she rose and backed timidly away. The boy looked at her curiously. "What's the matter?" he asked.