"Oh, only that! Why, it's the cabinet one just cut to fit the case. Yes, you can keep it. Fred there is very like him. You're like your mother. Eh, what's that child doing over there?" "Nuffin," said Fred, hurriedly abandoning his design to pull the needles out of her knitting. "You may both go now and play in the court," said Mrs. Rayburn. "There's no flowers there for you to spoil. I'm going to take a nap, for I'm tired out running after you. Now, mind me, boys, particularly Frank, as he's the eldest. I'll be good to you, if you're good; but you may as well give in at once, for I'm not like your mother, that never brought you into order by so much as a smack. Now, you know that I'm in earnest, so run away." They stole away, hand-in-hand. Frank sat down on the white stone steps. "Fred, dear," he said, "I do feel so sick and foolish." "Poo' Fwank, mine own Fwankie," and the little arms stoles round Frank's neck, and the rosy cheek was fondly rubbed against the white one. "It was bad of Fwed not to mind you; Fwed will mind you always now; and be so good. Oh, Fwank, where's muddie?" "She'll send for us as soon as ever she can. Muddie did not know that grandma would be cross." But, it was curious enough, Frank was not one whit surprised to find her so. [Illustration] CHAPTER V. ALL THE WAY TO GATTIGO. JANET hardly knew how the time passed during her journey back to Liverpool. She was not asleep, though her fellow-travellers thought she was, for she sat perfectly still with her eyes shut. She felt so awfully alone that she did not know how to bear it. Arrived in Liverpool, her first care was to secure a berth on board the ship; she had not done so before, not being certain that the children would not be with her. She saw the stewardess, and got her to give her a list of the few things she might want during the passage more than what was supplied by the company. Then she went back to her lodgings, paid up her few debts, packed up everything, went to the school and settled things there; finally, she had everything ready in good time. It was well that she had so much to do, and so little time in which to do it. For she was very unhappy, when she had time to think. She could not reconcile herself to the step she had taken at her husband's desire. To part with her boys—ah! It seemed cruel. Surely she could not have done it? Surely the door would open, and a baby face peep in, and a merry shout of "Muddie, Muddie, we've come home!" would be heard. But no, all was silence. Fred's loudest howl would have been music to his mother.