"Is it possible? What is he?" "An uncle." "Hum! uncles are proverbial for cruelty; were so in the classical days, and Richard III. was the only scholar in his family." "Eh! classical and Richard III.!" said the boy, startled, and looking attentively at the pensive driver. "Who are you? you talk like a gentleman." "I beg pardon. I'll not do so again if I can help it."--"Decidedly," thought Kenelm, "I am beginning to be amused. What a blessing it is to get into another man's skin, and another man's gig too!" Aloud, "Here we are at the fingerpost. If you are running away from your uncle, it is time to inform me where you are running to." Here the boy leaned over the gig and examined the fingerpost. Then he clapped his hands joyfully. "All right! I thought so, 'To Tor-Hadham, eighteen miles.' That's the road to 'Tor-Hadham." "Do you mean to say I am to drive you all that way,--eighteen miles?" "Yes." "And to whom are you going?" "I will tell you by and by. Do go on; do, pray. I can't drive--never drove in my life--or I would not ask you. Pray, pray, don't desert me! If you are a gentleman you will not; and if you are not a gentleman, I have got L10 in my purse, which you shall have when I am safe at Tor-Hadham. Don't hesitate: my whole life is at stake!" And the boy began once more to sob. Kenelm directed the pony's head towards Tor-Hadham, and the boy ceased to sob. "You are a good, dear fellow," said the boy, wiping his eyes. "I am afraid I am taking you very much out of your road." "I have no road in particular, and would as soon go to Tor-Hadham, which I have never seen, as anywhere else. I am but a wanderer on the face of the earth." "Have you lost your papa and mamma too? Why, you are not much older than I am." "Little gentleman," said Kenelm, gravely, "I am just of age, and you, I suppose, are about fourteen." "What fun!" cried the boy, abruptly. "Isn't it fun?" "It will not be fun if I am sentenced to penal servitude for stealing your uncle's gig, and robbing his little nephew of L10. By the by, that choleric relation of yours meant to knock down somebody else when he struck at me. He asked, 'Are you the villain?' Pray who is the villain? he is evidently in your confidence." "Villain! he is the most honourable, high-minded--But no matter now: I'll introduce you to him when we reach Tor-Hadham. Whip that pony: he is crawling." "It is up hill: a good man spares his beast."