“‘Whose child is this?’ And says I, ‘He is General Lyon’s grandnephew, sir, if you please;’ for I was sure all the time he knowed well enough it was his own. “‘I didn’t ask you whose nephew he is; I asked you whose child he is.’ “‘The same child whose hair you cut, sir, please,’ I answered. “‘Bosh, girl, you trifle with me! Whose son is he?’ “‘Please, sir, I thought you knew. He is Mrs. Alexander Lyon’s _own_ son, and Mr. and Mrs. Hammond’s and General Lyon’s godson.’ “‘Humph! what’s his name?’ says he. “‘Master Leonard Lyon, sir,’ says I. “‘Then as I am Lord Killcrichtoun, he is the Master of Killcrichtoun!’” “‘LORDS AND MASTERS, sir! you don’t say so?’ says I. “And he frowned at me, black as thunder; but little Lenny began to prattle to him, and he smiled and told me to follow him. And he took us to a fine silversmith’s shop in the Strand, and bought him this whistle. And then he told me to take the boy home to his mother, as it was growing too warm to keep him out in the sun.” While Pina spoke, Drusilla’s tears fell fast; but she wiped them away and inquired: “You know, Pina, when we first came here, he was lodging in this house. But I have not seen him lately. Do you know whether he is still here?” “No, ma’am, he isn’t. I asked that very question of the waiter; and he told me ‘my lord’ had gone and taken apartments at ‘Mivart’s.’” “We drove him away, I suppose,” muttered Drusilla to herself. “Ma’am, I don’t think Mrs. Hammond or Mr. Dick, or the General knows of Mr. Alick being about. If they ask me who gave Master Lenny the whistle, am I to tell?” “Certainly, Pina.” Drusilla was interrupted by a rap at the door. The voice of Anna without called: “Grandpa and Dick have returned, and the carriage is waiting, Drusa. Are you ready?” “Quite ready, dear,” answered Drusilla, hastily tying on her bonnet, and then going out and joining Anna. They went to the drawing-room, Drusilla leading Lenny who was shrilly blowing upon his whistle. “_Miserabile!_ Young gentleman, that will not do. The other guests will lay complaints and the proprietor will give us warning,” exclaimed General Lyon. “Who gave Lenny that?” inquired Dick. “Man, man in tware give Lenny dat,” said the imp, taking the instrument of torture from his lips to reply, and then putting back and puffing out his cheeks to blow an ear-piercing blast. “Christopher Columbus! that will never do. ‘Man in the square.’ What man gave the child such a nuisance as that? Was it Spencer, or any of our people?” demanded the General. “It was his father,” calmly replied Drusilla. A sort of panic fell upon the party. The short spell of silence was broken by General Lyon. “Humph! humph! humph! humph! so _he’s_ turned up again, has he? Where did he see the boy, my dear?”