"’So I had no choice but to telegraph to Ferrers Court for your town address. And oh, dear lady! my heart was aching for you all the time, for I knew you must be suffering agonies," she ended, holding out her hands to me. "And so, of course, I had been," Mrs. Ferrers went on; "but ’all’s well that ends well’; and we at once taught Mignon the name of the house she lived in, and, indeed, for a long time we sewed a little ticket on to the hem of her frock, so that if she did forget it, she would easily make some one understand where she wished to be taken." "And Hortense--what did you do with her?" Pearl asked. "Oh! we gave her a month’s wages, and sent her away," Mrs. Ferrers answered; "and now here is Browne with the tea, Pearl. Can you manage it?" "Oh! yes, Mother," Pearl answered. She was nearly fourteen, and loved to make the tea now and then. "Oh! here’s Miss Maitland coming! Miss Maitland, _I_ am to pour out the tea. Mother says so." "Willingly, so long as you don’t scald yourself," said Miss Maitland, smiling. "And here is Father," cried Maud. "Bootles, Mother has been telling us the dreadful story of how Mignon was lost." "Has she, sweetheart? Well, we don’t want to go through that particular experience any more, do we, darling?" "No! once was once too often," said Mrs. Ferrers, slipping her hand into his. "Two lumps of sugar," said Pearl, bringing her father his cup. "And muffins!" added Maud. Boy’s Love PART I It was towards the close of the afternoon of a warm June day that a short, sturdy, fair-haired boy, wearing a dark blue uniform with a touch of scarlet here and there about it, sat down at a long desk to write a letter. It was headed, "Duke of York’s School, Chelsea, S.W.," and began, "My dear Mother." When he had got thus far, the boy paused, leaned his elbow upon the desk, and rested his head upon his hand. And then after a minute the hand slipped downward, and rubbed something out of his eyes--something hard to get rid of, apparently--for presently one bright drop after another forced its way through his fingers and fell on to the desk beneath. And yet, truth to tell, even those bright drops did not help to get rid of the something, the something which had a firm foothold in the heart below, making it swell till it was well-nigh to bursting. This was his letter:--