The boys were glad enough to disperse, being terrified by the condition of the prisoner, as well as by the detection; but the two who were encumbered with the baskets containing the bottles, jam-pots, and tin of cream remained, and so did the two young sailors, Horner saying civilly-- “You’ll not be hard on the kids, sir, for just a spree carried a little too far.” “I certainly shall not be hard on the children, whom you seem to have tempted,” was the answer as they moved along; and as the younger Horner turned towards a little shop near the end of the steps to restore the goods, he asked--“Were you supplied from hence?” “Yes,” said Horner, who was perhaps hardly sober enough for caution. “Mother Butterfly is a jolly old soul.” Looking up. Clement saw no licence to sell spirituous liquors under the name of Sarah Schnetterling, tobacconist. The window had the placard ‘Ici on parle Francais’, and was adorned in a tasteful manner with ornamental pipes, fishing-rods and flies, jars of sweets, sheets of foreign stamps, pictorial advertisements of innocuous beverages. A woman with black grizzling hair, fashionably dressed, flashing dark eyes, long gold ear-rings, gold beads and gaudy attire, came out to reclaim her property. A word or two passed about payment, during which Clement had a strange thrill of puzzled recollection. The bottles bore the labels of raspberry vinegar and lemonade, but he had seen too much not to say-- “You drive a dangerous trade.” “Ah, sir, young people will be gourmands,” she said, with a foreign accent. “Ah, that poor young gentleman is very ill. Will he not come in and lie down to recover?” “No, thank you,” said Clement. “A carriage is coming to take him home.” Something about the fat in the fire was passing between the cadets, and the younger of them began to repeat that he had come for his brother’s birthday, and that he feared they had brought the youngsters into a scrape by carrying the joke too far. “I have nothing to say to you, sir,” said the Vicar of St. Matthew’s, looking very majestic, “except that it is time you were returning to your ship. As to you,” turning to Edward Harewood, “I can only say that if you are aware of the peculiar circumstances of Adrian Vanderkist, your conduct can only be called fiendish.” Fergus and Adrian came running up with tidings that the cab was waiting. Edward Harewood stood sullen, but the other lad said-- “Unlucky. We are sorry to have got the little fellows into trouble.” He held out his hand, and Clement did not refuse it, as he did that of his own nephew. Still, there was a certain satisfaction at his heart as he beheld the clear, honest young faces of the other two boys, and he bade Adrian run home and wait for him, saying to Fergus-- “You seem to have been a good friend to my little nephew. Thank you.”