"Boys, I am heartily ashamed of you. When you practise jokes of this kind, let it be on some one beside a little girl; I am sorry that your cousin had to find a protector in a stranger." "Papa, look at Roland, how pale he is!" exclaimed Madeline, just as he sank down exhausted on the step of the piazza. "You are hurt, my boy," said Mr. Hamilton. Roland tried to smile, but the pain of his ankle was so severe, that he could no longer conceal his sufferings. "I think that I have sprained my ankle," was the answer. Mr. Hamilton instantly took off the shoe, and was shocked to see how much it was swollen. "You must come in, my boy, and have remedies applied at once." After bathing and bandaging the limb, much to the mortification of the two boys, Roland was sent home in the buggy, under the care of the coachman. Charles and Harry shrank away into the house, and Madeline cried because her friend was hurt. "Won't you send over to-morrow, papa, to see how he is? He is such a good, brave boy." "Yes, my child, all shall be done that is right; but you must not fret so much about a stranger." With the careful nursing of a good mother, and the kind attentions of Mr. Hamilton, Roland soon recovered, and Madeline frequently stopped at the cottage door to inquire for her young protector. Mr. Hamilton was sadly puzzled to know what to do with his wild little daughter. She was now ten years old, with bright talents, but a wholly undisciplined mind; for nothing of importance had yet been done in the great task of education, unless we except a physical form of perfectly healthy development. She had free access to her father's library, and devoured indiscriminately whatever came in her way--history, poetry, romance--and it was really amusing to see with what facility she personified her favorite characters; and how much she remembered of the wild legends of feudal days, and of the lords and ladies that graced the Courts of Queen Elizabeth and Mary Stuart. Sir William Wallace and Robert Bruce, were, however, her great heroes, and were ever uppermost in her mind whenever she heard of a great man. Fairy tales were her delight; and Madeline was never better pleased than when she could gather an audience of youthful listeners, to whom she could relate the wonderful doings of these little people. Acting out in her fanciful costumes either the grandeur of Queen Elizabeth, the grace of Mary Stuart, or the changing fortunes of Cinderella, Madeline amused her father and Aunt Matilda by her witcheries part of the day, spending the remainder of her time in her wild frolics on the back of Selim, scouring the woods, or frequently attended by Hector, rambling on the sea-shore. Two or more hair-breadth escapes by land and water, at last decided Mr. Hamilton that he must get a governess for his mad-cap daughter, and much to her disgust, she was told that papa had gone to Boston to bring back a lady, to take charge of her education.