‘He does not mean birds’-nesting, exactly,’ Jerome explained for him. ‘He means all sorts of things—going into the woods, and learning about birds and watching them, and plants, and butterflies, and all that sort of thing.’ ‘Oh, natural history!’ ‘Yes; natural history,’ replied the sturdy-looking boy. ‘I don’t care for the birds in the woods here,’ said Jerome, carelessly; ‘ugly little brown things! I liked the golden pheasants, and the scarlet humming-birds, and the big white macaw, and the _papagei_—parrot, you know—in Countess Necromi’s aviary.’ ‘Laura, my dear, we must go. We have to do Brentwood yet, you know, and then to drive to the Lathebys.’ ‘Yes; I suppose we have. Well, boys, good afternoon. Will you shake hands with me?’ ‘Yes, _signorina_. _À rivederci_,’ said young Wellfield, looking so enchantingly amiable that Miss Laura stooped and kissed him. ‘Since you say _à rivederci_, I suppose you do not count me as an ugly thing?’ she said, laughing. ‘Oh no, the very opposite!’ he smiled, and she tapped his cheek, and said he was a precocious boy. She felt no interest in poor John Leyburn, but being of a kind disposition held out her hand to him too. He flushed all over his plain young face, and asked: ‘Will you—would you tell me what you are called?’ With a rapid flash of intuition ‘Laura’ realised that with all Jerome’s pretty words and liquid glances, he had not troubled himself on this point. She put her hand on the plain boy’s shoulder, and kissed him too, saying: ‘My name is Laura Dewhirst. By the time you are grown up you will have forgotten it, and I shall be such an old woman that you would not know me if you met me.’ All three laughed, and with another nod to the boys Miss Dewhirst ran after her papa and mamma. The two boys left the church, and the young woman locked the door and contemplated the gratuity she had received with great satisfaction. ‘Where shall we go?’ asked Jerome. ‘To Mr. Philips, to do our Latin.’ ‘Oh, Latin!’ sighed the boy. ‘I never used to do any Latin when mamma was alive—before I came to England.’ ‘Would you like to go back to Italy?’ ‘Not much, because papa always makes me feel such a very little boy. Mr. Philips doesn’t.’ ‘Well, come along then! Was not that a beautiful lady?’ ‘Very pretty. She liked talking to us.’ ‘I liked talking to her,’ said John Leyburn, sedately, as they turned in at the abbey gate, and went up the river walk. [Illustration] STAGE I. CHAPTER I. EMS.