"I--I must go home," she whispered, making for the door. "No, you mustn't! Your mother said you were to wait until your father called for you. It's terribly early yet." "But I must go," insisted the child, with her hand upon the knob. "Mary!" George's tone was suddenly masterful. "Are you mad at me?" "No, oh, no," she replied, shaking her head vigorously. "Well, something makes you seem very queer. If you're not mad, tell me why you're starting home!" Mary looked at him steadily for a moment, then her brown eyes filled with tears, her chin began to quiver, and she sobbed out,-- "I can't play with you any more, George, because your mother said you were--_a lord_, and--_awful rich_!" Down went her face into the circle of her chubby arm. "Mary, don't cry, please don't cry!" entreated George with a suspicious break in his own voice. "I like you the very same, the very same, and I'm just as I was, Mary. Truly I am." Perceiving with distress that the little maid's plump shoulders still shook with grief, George regarded her uncertainly for a moment, then hurried across to Mrs. Byron, who sat busily writing at her desk. "Mother," he inquired anxiously, "do you see any difference in me since I have been made a lord?" "No," replied she, laughing, without looking up, "certainly not." "There! I told you!" he exclaimed triumphantly, returning to the side of his sorrowful guest. "You will believe mother, won't you?" A nod of the head against the pinafore sleeve rewarded him. Then from the depths of the elbow came in a choking voice,-- "But, George, you are going away!" "Yes," he returned sadly, "I am going away." A fresh outburst of weeping greeted his admission, and at his wits' end for means to comfort the little woman, he declared,-- "When I leave, Mary, I'll give Aladdin to you." "Oh, George, _Aladdin_!" Up came the tear-stained face, dimpling with joy and surprise. "Yes, Aladdin. And whenever you ride him, it will be just as nice as playing with me, won't it now?" "Oh, yes," she assented graciously. "And, Mary," went on the boy earnestly, the while something tugged hard at his heart and threatened too to strangle him, "let's promise that all our lives you'll like me better than anybody else in the world, and I'll like you better than anybody else in the world." "Let's!" she agreed; and George took her brown little hand in his, and pressed it to his lips, in such fashion as he had read that the gallant Gordons greeted the ladies of their clan. The following day came a letter with an impressive yellow seal, confirming the fact of George's lordship. Then followed a sale of all the furniture and draperies which the Byrons had used in the Broad Street flat; and one morning in July, the family left Aberdeen for England.