“You remind me,” replied my father, “of a son who was stolen from me when he was a child. I searched for him, during many years, and at last fell in with him by accident, to find him all the heart of father could wish. But alas! he did not take kindly to me as I to him, and after two days he left me; nor shall I ever again see him.” “Then, sir, had I not better leave you?” “No, stay with me till your road takes you elsewhere; for though I cannot see my son, you are so like him that I could almost fancy he is with me. And now--for I shall show no more weakness--you say your mother knew the Sunchild, as I am used to call him. Tell me what kind of a man she found him.” “She liked him well enough in spite of his being a little silly. She does not believe he ever called himself child of the sun. He used to say he had a father in heaven to whom he prayed, and who could hear him; but he said that all of us, my mother as much as he, have this unseen father. My mother does not believe he meant doing us any harm, but only that he wanted to get himself and Mrs. Nosnibor’s younger daughter out of the country. As for there having been anything supernatural about the balloon, she will have none of it; she says that it was some machine which he knew how to make, but which we have lost the art of making, as we have of many another. “This is what she says amongst ourselves, but in public she confirms all that the Musical Bank Managers say about him. She is afraid of them. You know, perhaps, that Professor Hanky, whose name I see on your permit, tried to burn her alive?” “Thank heaven!” thought my father, “that I am Panky;” but aloud he said, “Oh, horrible! horrible! I cannot believe this even of Hanky.” “He denies it, and we say we believe him; he was most kind and attentive to my mother during all the rest of her stay in Bridgeford. He and she parted excellent friends, but I know what she thinks. I shall be sure to see him while he is in Sunch’ston, I shall have to be civil to him but it makes me sick to think of it.” “When shall you see him?” said my father, who was alarmed at learning that Hanky and the Ranger were likely to meet. Who could tell but that he might see Panky too? “I have been away from home a fortnight, and shall not be back till late on Saturday night. I do not suppose I shall see him before Sunday.” “That will do,” thought my father, who at that moment deemed that nothing would matter to him much when Sunday was over. Then, turning to the Ranger, he said, “I gather, then, that your mother does not think so badly of the Sunchild after all?” “She laughs at him sometimes, but if any of us boys and girls say a word against him we get snapped up directly. My mother turns every one round her finger. Her word is law in Sunch’ston; every one obeys her; she has faced more than one mob, and quelled them when my father could not do so.” “I can believe all you say of her. What other children has she besides yourself?”