“That will do,” said Margaret, “I want no information on the subject. Make haste, Sally, and get Master Osy’s tea.” Osy stood looking up somewhat anxiously in his mother’s face, leaning against her. He put one hand into hers, and put the other to her chin to make her look at him, with a way he had. “Movver, why don’t you want in--in--formashun?” he said. “Osy, my little boy, you know you mustn’t talk before Sally of your Cousin Gervase or the family; you must tell me whatever happens, but not any of the servants. That lady is perhaps going to be the lady of the house, now. She is Mrs. Gervase, and she has a better right to be here than you or me. Perhaps we shall have to go away. You must be a very good, very thoughtful little boy; and polite, like a gentleman, to every one.” “I am never not a gemplemans, movver,” said the child, with an air of offended dignity; then he suddenly grew red, and cried out, “Oh, I fordot! Cousin Colonel met me in the hall, and he said would I tell you to tum, please, and speak to him in the rose-garden, because he touldn’t tum upstairs. Will you do and speak to Cousin Colonel in the garden, movver? He said, wouldn’t I tum with him to his house?” “Osy! but you wouldn’t go with any one, would you, away from your mother?” “Oh, not for always,” cried the child, “but for a day, two days, to ride upon his s’oulder. He’s not like Cousin Gervase. He holds fast--fast; and I likes him. Movver, run into the rose-garden; for I fordot, and he is there waiting, and he will fink I’ve broke my word. And I doesn’t want you now,” said Osy, waving his hand, “for I’m doin’ to have my tea.” Thus dismissed, Margaret rose slowly and with reluctance. She did not run to the rose-garden as her son had bidden her. A cloud had come over her face. It was quite reasonable that Colonel Piercey should ask to speak with her in her changed position of affairs. It would be quite reasonable, indeed, that he should offer her advice, or even help. He was her nearest relation, and though he had not been either just or kind to herself, he had fallen under the charm of her little boy. It might be that, distasteful as it was, for Osy’s sake she would have to accept, even to seek, Gerald Piercey’s advice. Probably it was true kindness on his part to offer it in the first place, to put himself at her disposal. For herself there could be no such question; somehow, so far as she was concerned, she could struggle and live or die: what would it matter? But Osy must grow up, must be educated, must become a man. Margaret had been of opinion that she knew something already of the bitterness of dependence; it seemed to her now, however, that she had not tasted it until this day. END OF VOL. I. PRINTED BY F. A. BROCKHAUS, LEIPZIG. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cuckoo in the Nest; vol. 1/2, by Margaret Oliphant