child baffled all his plans. What could be done while he was there? though there was no proof who he was, and none that he was legitimate, or anything but a little impostor: certainly, he was as far from being a lawful and proper English heir--such as an old family like the Musgraves ought to have--such as his own boy would be--as could be supposed. And of course, the best that could be done for himself was to send him to school. It was only of Nello that Randolph thought in this way. The little girl, though a more distinct individual, did not trouble him. She might be legitimate enough--another Mary, to whom, of course, Mary would leave her money--and there would be an end of it. Randolph did not believe, even if there had been no girl of John’s, that Mary’s money would ever come his way. She would alienate it rather, he felt sure--found a hospital for cats, or something of that description (for Mary was nothing but a typical old maid to Randolph, who regarded her, as an unmarried woman, with much masculine and married contemptuousness), rather than let it come to his side of the family. So let that pass--let the girl pass; but for the boy! That little, small, baby-faced Nello--a little nothing--a creature that might be crushed by a strong hand--a thing unprotected, unacknowledged, without either power or influence, or any one to care for him! how he stood in Randolph’s way! But he did not at this moment mean him any harm; that is, no particular harm. The school he had suddenly thought of had nothing wrong in it; it was a school for the sons of farmers or poor clergymen, and people in “reduced circumstances.” It would do Nello a great deal of good. It would clear his mind from any foolish notion of being the heir. And he would be out of the way; and once at school, there is no telling what may happen between the years of ten and twenty. But of one thing Randolph was quite sure--that he meant no harm, no particular harm, to the boy.