Janet was rather frightened, he looked so white and weak. She put him to bed, and brought him some bread and milk, which he took to please her. When she woke him next morning he seemed quite himself again, and, having said his prayers, he came and stood before her, saying earnestly— "I will try to be good, muddie, and I promise to take care of Fred all I can." And he was good, poor little fellow, giving no trouble whatever, and trying to keep Fred quiet during the journey. But Fred had bound himself by no such promise, and was in uproarious spirits, making noise enough for half a dozen. At Rugeley she left the train and looked about for some one from Kelmersdale. Presently a short, square-built, awkward young man came up to her, making a clumsy bow, which he accompanied by a curious movement of one foot, like the pawing of an impatient horse. But it was shyness, not impatience, that made him paw. "Be you Mrs. Fred Rayburn?" "Yes; is Mrs. Rayburn here?" "No, but I have the taxcart here for you and the children. Be this your box? Come along, then." With a final paw, which sent the gravel flying, he picked up the box and led the way to where he had left the taxcart. Janet sat in front beside the driver, with Fred in her arms, for she could not trust the excited child out of her sight. Frank and the box kept each other company, and Frank was glad, for he wanted to cry just a little without "making muddie cry." It was a lovely drive, but none of them saw much of it. At last they drove through a great heavy gate into a paved court, walled on three sides, and with a large pillared porch on the fourth, with a great broad flight of stone steps leading to a large iron-studded door. This was wide open, and just inside stood Mrs. Rayburn, and with her a young servant, in white cap and apron and blue satin bows. "Well, Janet dear, here you are, and here are my darling boys," Mrs. Rayburn cried. "It was a surprise—your telegraph saying that you were coming. Why, Frank looks but poorly; a little country air will do him good. Jacob, bring in that box. Fred's grown a little; as to Frank, he's run up far too fast for strength. Come to my sitting-room—isn't this cosy? Maria, we'll have dinner as soon as 'tis ready." Maria departed, and Mrs. Rayburn went on. "So you have a holiday—how long is it, Janet? I hope you can stay some time. My lord is never here except during the shooting season, when he has a party for the sport; so I can do just as I like. And I advise you to leave the children with me just for a bit—just till Frank picks up a colour and a little flesh. He looks very peaky." "Yes; Liverpool does not agree with him. May the boys run out and play in the court, Mrs. Rayburn? I want to talk to you alone." "I'll just send and get the gate shut, and then they'll be as safe as possible."