Ralph thought it all over as he rested his arms on the little iron gate leading into the glebe, his eyes wandering sadly over that distant view which he had always loved, with its stretch of gorse and heather, and to the right the beautiful woods of Whinhaven park, just now in the full perfection of their spring tints. Well, it was all over now, and the place was to pass into the hands of strangers, and somehow he must get through his goodbyes. Making his way to the stable, he flung his arms about the neck of old Forester the pony, choked back a sob in his throat as he unfastened Skipper the Irish terrier, and picking up in his arms a scared-looking white cat, ran at full speed down the drive, across the common, with its golden gorse and dark fir trees, until he reached the coastguard station. Beneath the flag-staff, with a telescope tucked under his arm, there stood a cheery-looking official in trim reefer and gold-laced cap. It was Langston--the head of the coastguard station, and one of Ralph’s best friends. “I have come to say good-bye, for to-morrow I’m going to London,” said the boy hurriedly. “And I want to give you Skipper, if you care to have him. He’s of a very good breed, father said, and he’s an awfully friendly dog. And if you had room for Toots as well I should be awfully obliged. I know he’s not worth anything, and ever since Benjamin was lost Toots has been sort of queer, always mewing and roaming about looking for him. But I think if you buttered his feet he would stay, and he’s a real good mouser.” Langston promised to adopt both dog and cat, but he would not allow all the giving to be on one side. He went into his house and returned in a few minutes with a little pocket compass. “I’ll ask you to accept that, Master Ralph,” he said, as he gripped the boy’s hand in a friendly grasp. “You’ll maybe have rough times in life, but steer well, my lad, steer well, and be the man your father would have had you.” “How does one steer if one doesn’t know which is the right way to go?” said Ralph with a sigh. “Why it’s then that you’ll hear your captain’s orders,” said the coastguardsman. “Cheer up, Master Ralph, it don’t all depend on the man at the wheel.” CHAPTER II “Ill is that angel which erst fell from heaven, But not more ill than he, nor in worse case, Who hides a traitorous mind with smiling face, And with a dove’s white feather masks a raven, Each sin some colour hath it to adorn. Hypocrisy, Almighty God doth scorn.” Wm. Drummond, 1616. |Dinner proved a trying meal that evening, although Sir Matthew and Mr. Marriott exerted themselves to talk, and were both of them very kind to their small companion. Afterwards they adjourned once more to the study where for the sake of the old lawyer a fire had been lighted.