"Send them a Christmas hamper," said the Squire. The Christmas hamper went. With a turkey and ham, and a brace of pheasants in it; some bacon and apples to fill up, and sweet herbs and onions. Lena put in her favourite doll, dressed as a little mother, for young Joe. It had a false arm; and no legs, so to say: Hugh cut the feet off one day, and Hannah had to sew the stumps up. We hoped they would enjoy it all, including the doll, and drank good luck to them on Christmas Day. A week and a half went on, and no news came. Mrs. Todhetley grew uneasy about the hamper, feeling sure it had been confiscated by the railway. Mary Blair had always written so promptly to acknowledge everything sent to them. One January day the letter came in by the afternoon post. We knew Mary's handwriting. The Squire and Madam were at the Sterlings', and it was nine o'clock at night when they drove in. Mrs. Todhetley's face ached, which was quite usual she had a white handkerchief tied round it. When they were seated round the fire, I remembered the letter, and gave it to her. "Now to hear the fate of the hamper!" she exclaimed, carrying it to the lamp. But, what with the face-ache, and what with her eyes, which were not so good by candle-light as they used to be, Mrs. Todhetley could not read the contents readily. She looked at the writing, page after page, and then gave a short scream of dismay. Something was wrong. "Those thieves have grabbed the hamper!" cried the Squire. "No; I think the Blairs have had the hamper. I fear it is something worse," she said faintly. "Perhaps you will read it aloud." The Squire put his spectacles on as he took the letter. We gathered round the table, waiting. Mrs. Todhetley sat with her head aside, nursing her cheek; and Tod, who had been reading, put his book down. The Squire hammered a good deal over the writing, which was not so legible as Mary's was in general. She appeared to have meant it for Mrs. Todhetley and the Squire jointly. "'MY VERY DEAR FRIENDS, "'If I have delayed writing to you it was not for want of in-ingredients'"---- "Ingredients!" cried one of us. "It must be gratitude," corrected the Squire. "Don't interrupt." "'Gratitude for your most welcome and liberal present, but because my heart and hands have alike shrunk from the ex--ex--explanation it must entail. Alas! a series of very terrible misfortunes have overwormed--overwhelmed us. We have had to give up our school and our prospects together, and to turn out of our once happy dome.'" "Dome!" put in Tod. "I suppose it's home," said the Squire. "This confounded lamp is as dim as it can be to-night!" And he went on fractiously.