"Well, now, that's kind like," simpered the idiot. "I know thee well, Sam Barnby; thee had'st always a good heart." "Well, well, lad, don't stand talking there, but scramble in at once," cried Sam, as he forced the poor creature down by my side. Soon afterwards we passed a woodman's or a keeper's hut, from the window of which a gleam of light streamed forth on the idiot's face, and a creeping feeling of fear stole over me as I caught his large lack-lustre eyes peering into mine, the teeth in his ever-grinning mouth looking white and shining under his upturned lip. I knew that he was said to be perfectly harmless and good-natured, but I would have given anything if Jack would have changed places with me. I did not drop off to sleep again, that is very certain. The way seemed far longer than I had expected, and I almost fancied that Sam must have mistaken his road--not a very likely thing to occur, however. As we neared the lodge-gate of Foxholme, I shut my eyes, lest the light from the window should again show me the poor idiot's face staring at me. All disagreeable feelings, however, speedily vanished as we drove up in front of the chief entrance, and the hall-door was flung open, and a perfect blaze of light streamed forth, and the well-known smiling faces of Purkin, the butler, and James Jarvis, the footman, appeared; and the latter, descending the steps, carried up our trunk and hat-boxes and a play-box we had brought empty, though to go back in a very different condition, we had a notion. Then we ran into the drawing-room, and found our uncle Sir Hugh, and our kind, sweet-smiling aunt, and our favourite Cousin Julia--she was Sir Hugh's only daughter by a first marriage--and our little Cousin Hugh--his only son by the present Lady Worsley; and there, too, was Cousin Peter. He was Sir Hugh's cousin and Aunt Worsley's cousin, and was cousin to a great number of people besides--indeed everybody who came to the house called him cousin, it seemed.