"Never, and I never wish to see them again. I said as much to the master of Springfield, if I'm not mistaken." "From what I've heard of him, he's not a man either to forget or forgive." "You'll promise me, then, for the sake of the children, not to set any one on our track?" He spoke anxiously, his fears exaggerating a danger which, in all likelihood was wholly imaginary. "Yes," replied the wagoner, "there's no harm in promising. They've no right to worry you, as far as I can see, and they sha'n't get me to put them in the way of it. How long are you going to stop here?" "We can live here so cheaply," said Seth, with a lightened heart, "that my purse will hold out for two or three weeks; we'll stay that time, I dare say." "I'll be going up to London about then, mayhap," said the wagoner; "if so, I'll be glad to give the little lasses a lift; and mayhap I may be passing this way in a few days with the wagon. A ride through the lanes will do them no harm." Seth expressed his thanks to the kind-hearted old fellow, and they shook hands and parted, the wagoner smiling goodbye to the children, who stood at the window watching him until he was out of sight. Then commenced a happy time. The children were in a new world, and the little cottage, with its bit of garden back and front, was a very heaven to them. Everything was so new and bright, the air was so sweet, the trees and flowers so beautiful, that Sally could scarcely believe it was all real. On the first night, when they were abed, listening to the strange sound of the waves beating on the shore, Sally whispered to the Duchess: "Isn't it lovely, Duchess?" "Yes, oh, yes," sighed the Duchess; and this precise form of words was used at least a dozen times, each time with the belief that it embodied an observation of an especially original nature. Once Sally, creeping out of bed, drew aside the snowy white curtains from the window and looked out. "Oh, come, Duchess, come!" she cried, and the Duchess scrambled after her. It was full moon, and the glorious light shining on the trees and hedges was a vision of beauty to them. "That's a different moon from the one we've got in Rosemary Lane," said Sally; "I wish we could take it back with us." "Are we going back?" asked the Duchess regretfully. Sally did not reply. The prospect was too distressing. But she was happily so constituted as to be grateful for present joys and pleasures, and she dismissed Rosemary Lane from her thoughts. Her one fear was that she would wake up. "Do you like the noise the sea makes?" she inquires of her idol, when they were in bed again. "It's beautiful," said the Duchess. "Are the ships there?" Sally never hesitated to impart information on subjects of which she was ignorant. "They're there," she said, "but they don't move till daylight comes." "I'm sleepy," said the Duchess, with a yawn.