"Miss Lillycrop desired me to come and see you," resumed Miss Stivergill. "She has told me how bravely you tried to rescue poor little Bones, who--" "Not much hurt, I hope?" asked the boy eagerly. "No, very little--scarcely at all, I'm glad to say. Those inexplicable creatures called firemen, who seem to me what you may call fire-fiends of a good-natured and recklessly hilarious type, say that her having fallen down with her nose close to the ground, where there is usually a free current of air, saved her. At all events she _is_ saved, and quite well." "I hope I didn't haul much of the hair out of her poor head?" said Pax. "Apparently not, if one may judge from the very large quantity that remains," replied his visitor. "You see, ma'am, in neck-or-nothin' scrimmages o' that sort," continued Pax, in the off-hand tone of one much experienced in such scrimmages, "one can't well stop to pick and choose; besides, I couldn't see well, d'ee see? an' her hair came first to hand, you know, an' was convenient. It's well for both on us, however, that that six foot odd o' magnificence came to the rescue in time. I like 'im, I do, an' shall owe 'im a good turn for savin' little Bones.--What was her other name, did you say, ma'am?" "I didn't mention any other name, but I believe it is Tottie.--Now, little Peter, when the doctor gives you leave to be moved, you are to come to me to recruit your health in the country." "Thank you, ma'am. You're too good," said Pax, becoming languid again. "Pray give my best respects to Tottie and Miss Lillycrop." "So small, and so pretty, and such a wise little thing," murmured Miss Stivergill, unaware, apparently, that she soliloquised aloud. "So big, and so ugly, and such a good-hearted stoopid old thing!" murmured Pax; but it is only just to add that he was too polite to allow the murmur to be heard. "Good-bye, little Peter, till we meet again," said Miss Stivergill, turning away abruptly. "Farewell, ma'am," said Pax, "farewell; and if for ever--" He stopped, because his visitor was gone. According to this arrangement, Pax found himself, not many days after, revelling in the enjoyment of what he styled "tooral-ooral" felicity-- among cows and hay, sunshine and milk, buttercups and cream, green meadows and blue skies,--free as a butterfly from telegraphic messagery and other postal cares. He was allowed to ramble about at will, and, as little Bones was supposed to be slightly invalided by her late semi-suffocation, she was frequently allowed by her indulgent mistress to accompany him. Seated on a stile one day, Pax drew Tottie out as to her early life, and afterwards gave an account of his own in exchange. "How strange," said Tottie, "that you and I should both have had bybies to nuss w'en we was young, ain't it?"