“Something I want to say, only it isn’t very easy,” and Queenie got rather red, for she was a proud little maiden, and found it rather hard to own herself in the wrong. “I called you a coward, Bertie; I think I called you so a great many times. I want to tell you I’m sorry. I know now that you were just as brave as Phil or any of the boys, and I want you to say you forgive me for being so cross.” Bertie was quite taken aback, and blushed as red as Queenie. “Please don’t talk so. I was a coward about the boat; and I’ve forgotten all about the rest. You have always been very kind to me, Queenie. You know you made friends with me when I had nobody else.” Queenie began to laugh now; she had got a weight off her mind, and was her merry self again. “I was often very cross,” she said. “I sometimes think I must have a very hasty temper. I do get so cross if I have to do what I don’t like. You don’t ever get cross, do you?” “I feel cross sometimes,” answered Bertie, truthfully; “but you know, I like to do what the Squire tells me; I like to keep his rules.” “I know you do,” answered Queenie, quickly. “You are obedient. Nurse often tells me so; but I like doing as _I_ like, not as other people say.” She sighed a little impatiently, and then added, half reluctantly, “Sometimes I think I should like to be obedient too; only it seems so tiresome.” “You would like it if you once began,” said Bertie, quickly. “It’s nice to please people when we love them.” Queenie sighed again. “I like pleasing Uncle Fred and Aunt Winifred; they are very nice and kind. When I come to stay with them I shall try very hard to be good. Perhaps, if I find it answers, I’ll try always.” “Do,” answered Bertie. “I think you will be happier if you do.” “Phil has been more obedient since he went to school,” said Queenie, reflectively; “and he is always happy. Perhaps I’ll try.” And then they bade Bertie an affectionate farewell, and made him promise to come very often to see them whenever they came to stay with Uncle Fred. And so there were changes in that little circle. Sir Walter Arbuthnot gave place to his brother, and a very close bond of union existed between the two households in the adjoining houses, the golden link that joined them together being no other than little Bertie, the child who had once been so lonely and homeless, without even a name to call his own. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXIII. CONCLUSION. FOUR years have come and gone, four very bright and happy years; and the good people of Arlingham are wont to say that things have never gone so well with them, that times have never seemed so smooth and prosperous, since the Squire’s sweet lady and her children lived at the Manor House and made the place bright and homelike with their presence.