"A letter for Mr Edgar," he said, picking it up. He gave a second glance, and put it in his pocket. "I'll give it to him," he said. Wyn was giddy and a little faint, and did not see what was passing; but presently he sat up, and Mr Cunningham said: "Well, my boy, you'd better keep to Mr Edgar's pony for the future." "Mr Stapleton won't never forgive me," said Wyn, feeling the horse's knees of far more importance than his own nose, and referring to the stud-groom. "Well, I hope there's nothing worse than Rex's knees on your conscience," said the squire in the peculiar dry tone which made his displeasure so appalling. "You had better wait here, Elizabeth Warren. I'll ride back and send someone to help you." "Thank you, sir;" then, as he rode on, "Surely nothing could be worse than breaking the horse's knees! What will father say? What's the matter, Wyn? here's your handkerchief." "But--but--where's--where's--" "Mr Edgar's letter? Mr Cunningham took it, so that's all right." Wyn jumped up with a positive howl. "Oh! oh! oh! Whatever have I done! Oh, I am the unluckiest boy in the world! Oh, whatever will he say to me? But there--" Wyn suddenly stifled his lamentations and sat perfectly still, only sobbing at intervals. "Why," said Bessie, "if anyone lets a horse down they must expect to catch it. But there, Wyn, it's a mercy, to be very thankful for, that we're neither of us killed. I feel all of a tremble still. There, isn't that one of the stablemen coming? The master must have met him. Wipe your face, Wyn, dear, and don't cry; we'll go home to mother, and she'll see to you." "Oh," sobbed Wyn, burying his face in the bank as his sister went forward to meet the stableman, "I'd rather have let down all the hunters and broken all my bones than have let master have the letter. And I lost the other, and I've set on the keepers! I'm--I'm a regular traitor, and Mr Edgar'll never trust me no more--never!" CHAPTER FOURTEEN. THE FAIRY LETTER.