Madeline surveyed him for some moments critically; then she threw her arms round his neck and kissed him impulsively. ‘When I marry you, Mr. White,’ she said, ‘I’ll buy you a nice wig, and then, you see, no one will know!’ ‘A wig--the gods forbid!’ ‘A beautiful _black_, like the Chevalier wears. I know it’s a wig, because he takes it off and puts on a nightcap when he goes to bed.’ White threw back his head and laughed heartily; then forcing a serious look into his face, he said-- ‘Don’t let us wander from the subject; I began by saying that you must go to school.’ Madeline’s face darkened, and her lips pouted. ‘I shan’t,’ she said. ‘Come, come, Madeline! Don’t you care to learn?’ ‘No.’ ‘Nevertheless, learning is a physic which you will be compelled to take. You mustn’t grow up a little ignoramus. English grammar, geography, and--yes, by Jove--you shall learn French and music.’ ‘French!’ she cried, with a sudden sparkle in her eyes. ‘Like Mamzelle talks sometimes to her pa?’ ‘Exactly.’ ‘And music! I love music! And then I shall understand every word they say, and play like Mamzelle on the piano. Oh, Mr. White, do let me go to school and learn French and music!’ All. opposition being thus speedily withdrawn, White determined that Madeline should go to school forthwith. In his customary fashion, therefore, he dismissed the subject from his mind; and it is a question how soon he would have practically carried out the scheme if Madeline herself had not worried him every day with the question, ‘Oh, Mr. White, when am I to go to school and learn French and music?’ But after a consultation with the Chevalier, a school was found in the neighbourhood--which he himself attended two or three times a week--and after a slight discussion over terms, which were specially reduced in her case, Madeline was sent there as a day scholar. Once or twice since her translation to London, Madeline had heard from her foster-mother, who was then going from house to house as a monthly nurse. Mrs. Peartree could not write herself, but she sent by deputy many fond and loving messages, which Madeline answered with letters a thousand times more passionate. Since the day of their parting, however, she had heard nothing from Uncle Luke. But some few weeks after she went to school there arrived a letter for her bearing the post-mark of a small town in Essex. Opening it eagerly, she read as follows:--