So a few minutes found Inna down in the heart of Cherton, asking for Mrs. Jackson. She found her in a neat cottage, and helping the mistress of the same to cook a monster dinner for two families. She looked pale and sad, but brightened at Inna's kindly message, and the baskets of comforts she told her Mrs. Grant sent with her and the doctor's compliments. "Thank you, dear; and my compliments in return; and my heart's best thanks to that brave boy, your--your--what is he to you, miss? I suppose he's something?" said Mrs. Jackson. "Do you mean Oscar?" "Yes--he who saved my boy at the risk of his own young life." Inna's cheeks flushed, and sweet lights stole into her eyes. "Do you mean----?" she faltered. "I mean he rushed up the burning staircase, and brought down this little chap," returned Mrs. Jackson, drawing a sunbeam of a boy of two to her side, "when strong men hesitated and stood back. Didn't you know?" "No; I know he burnt his arm." "Burnt, miss! 'Twas a wonder he wasn't burnt to a cinder. Give him my blessing--a mother's blessing--and tell him he ought to make a noble man." This was Mrs. Jackson's message to Oscar as she stood at the door, and watched the little girl away. "Well, dear, that shows 'tisn't wise to condemn people before they're tried," was Mrs. Grant's comment when Inna told her of Oscar's brave deed. Dr. Willett and Mr. Barlow would dine late, and would be away all day. Oscar also failed to put in an appearance at dinner-time, so Inna dined in solitary state in the great dining-room, and had a pleasant afternoon in the orchard, where a man or two were gathering in apples. Still, she wished she knew why Oscar did not come to dinner, and where he was, for her heart was beginning to yearn already over the wilful, noble, undisciplined boy. It had always been her dream to have a brother--a big strong brother to lean upon, and here was one whom she would like to gather to her. "I didn't want any dinner, so saw no use in coming home," was the account Oscar gave of himself that evening, when, at sundown, he came sauntering in. But he took his revenge by doing wonders at tea-time, sitting by the kitchen fire on a low stool, and eating his dinner, kept hot for him. Inna was in the dining-room, presiding at her uncle's meal, like a small queen. "Does it hurt, dear lad?" inquired Mrs. Grant of the boy. "No; what good is it to make a fuss about a scratch like that?" returned he, wielding knife and fork as best he could, now one, now the other in his left hand. But lo! to the astonishment of all, out came Dr. Willett and Mr. Barlow into the kitchen--who so seldom came there--followed by Inna. "Oscar, let me see your arm," said the doctor. Ah! well the thing was out--so much for a girl. "I hardly know that I can, 'tis such a tight fit of a sleeve," returned the boy, with a reproachful look at Inna. "Well, it went in, I suppose, and it must come out," said Mr. Barlow, coming to his side.