“The master went away, and my kind gentleman and I were left alone. I won’t tell you all that passed,” said the farmer tenderly, “it was only the first of a long string of kindnesses he has done me, and made me the happy old fellow I am. He got it all out of me by degrees. He heard all about Mag and Nelly, and all about Miss Pringle and the robbery. He took particular notice of Mag, and seemed very curious to know all about his ways. And when he went away he told the master to treat me as usual till he came back the next day. “And now I’ve nearly done my yarn,” said the farmer; “she must be tired of Nelly and me by this time,” he added, looking at his wife, but it was getting too dark for me to see the twinkle that I know now was in his eyes as he said it. “My gentleman came early, and to my astonishment, both I and Mag were put into his carriage, and he drove us away. Still more taken back was I when we stopped at Uncle Jonas’s, and out came Miss Nelly and climbed into the seat next me. We were too shy to kiss each other or talk, but after a bit I pulled out the wisp of hair from my trousers pocket and showed it her. Nelly couldn’t make it out, then, but she knows now how I got it. She knows—she knows,” said the farmer; “and here it is now,” and he showed me a locket, attached to his watch-chain, with some brown hair in it. I looked, and was going to ask a question, when he held up his hand to hush me, and went on. “We drove many miles, the gentleman asking questions now and then, especially about Mag, but for the most part we were silent. At last I saw the three elms and the spire come in sight, and I had hard work to keep the tears in. I sat with Nelly’s hand in mine, but we said never a word. “We dropped Nelly at her mother’s cottage, and she was told that she would probably be sent for presently. Then we drove on to Miss Pringle’s, and went straight to the stable-yard; there was no pony, and the grass was growing in the yard. Miss Pringle, I found afterwards, would have no more boys about the place. “‘Which was your room?’ said the gentleman, and I showed him upstairs. “‘Stay here till I come for you,’ said he. ‘Can I trust you?’ “He did not wait for an answer, but went away, taking Mag with him. I sat down and looked out at the garden, and at the window where I had jumped out that terrible day, and wondered what was going to happen; and what happened is the last thing I am going to tell you. “He went round to the front door, and presently came out into the garden, still carrying Mag’s cage. Then he put down the cage on the lawn, leaving its door open. Then he went back into the house, and I could see him and Miss Pringle come and sit at the open window of the parlour. He kept his eye on the cage, and seemed to say little; Miss Pringle looked rather puzzled, I thought, and shook her curls pretty often in a fidgety sort of way.