"Of course you may stay here as long as you like," he replied. "I’m only afraid there’s a storm coming on, and if it’s very bad the roof might perhaps let in a little rain, supposing, you know, it came down in torrents." The stranger smiled. "It’s worth feeling ill to get another glimpse of you, my boy," he said. "I must confess that the longing for it rather weighed with me when I debated about my departure in the early dawn. I shall have to start soon, however, so as to be sure to catch the evening train to London, as it is hopeless to think of getting there on foot after this attack. It is six miles to the station, isn’t it, Robin?" "Six and a quarter," answered the lad, "and there are two hills on the way." "I shall be lucky if I arrive there before midnight," was the reply, "but I’ll have a try, anyhow. Meanwhile, I’ve still got some of the bread and butter you brought me last night, and a little milk in the bottom of the jug, so I shall do very well. Don’t you bother about me, little chap. I’m used to roughing it a bit." "I will bring you my lunch again at eleven o’clock," said Robin, "but I do wish you would let me tell mother about you, as she would know so much better than I do what you ought to have. I promise you, honour bright, that I wouldn’t tell anyone else." "Not even mother," answered the stranger, "though I am sure she must be a true and good woman who owns you as her son. God bless you both--if a prayer from such as I can bring you a benediction." He watched the boy disappear among the trees, and then, turning over with his face to the earth, he groaned aloud. "Oh, my God!" he exclaimed. "What might not have been! Truly the way of transgressors is hard." There were traces of tears in his eyes when he at length rose and proceeded languidly to finish the provisions lying beside him. "Julius, I want you to come with me to Westmarket to-day," said Mr. Field as he sat at the breakfast-table that morning. "Be ready at eleven o’clock sharp. A grand bazaar is being held there in aid of the Town Hall, and no end of swells are to be present. The Countess of Monfort is taking a great interest in the cause, and I must certainly put in an appearance, or they might think it rude. Money is not a bad thing, after all, and I have no doubt they will be glad enough to see me, even though neither her ladyship nor the earl have taken the trouble to return my call." "I don’t want to go," was the sulky reply. "I hate bazaars, and swells, and countesses, and it’s beastly rot driving in the motor, with nothing to do but to sit still." "Don’t let me hear you speak like that again, Julius," said his father sternly. "Those are my orders and it is your part to obey." "Couldn’t you go a little later?" pleaded the boy. "Eleven o’clock is so very early."