Hawthorne Cottage, Mr. Medlin’s abode, was a pretty little house, standing detached in a good-sized garden, surrounded by a high wall.

“Here we are, mother,” the clerk said, as he led the way into a cozy room, where tea was laid upon the table, while a bright fire blazed in the grate.

A very pleasant-faced lady, who did not look to Bob more than thirty ­although she must have been four or five years older ­greeted her husband affectionately.

“My dear,” he said, “in the exuberance of your feelings, you forget that I have brought you home a visitor.  This is Mr. Robert Repton.  While he is resident in the house, he may be greeted as Bob.  We had a race, and he runs faster than Jack; fifty yards, in four hundred and twenty, is the utmost I can give him.”

“What nonsense you do talk, Will!” his wife said, laughing.  “I am sure Master Repton must think you out of your mind.”

“It is a very jolly way of being out of his mind, Mrs. Medlin.  You don’t know how pleased I am.”

“He thought I was an ogre, my dear, and that you were an ogress.

“Now let the banquet be served; for I am hungry, and I expect Bob is, too.  As for the children, they are always hungry ­at least, it seems so.”

It was a merry meal, and Bob thought he had never enjoyed one as much, except at his sister’s.  After tea they had music; and he found that Mr. Medlin performed admirably on the violin, his wife played the spinet, Jack the clarionet, and Sophy ­the eldest girl ­the piccolo.

“She is going to learn the harp, presently,” Mr. Medlin explained; “but for the present, when we have no visitors ­and I don’t count you one, after this evening ­she plays the piccolo.  She is a little shy about it, but shyness is the failing of my family.”

“It is very jolly,” Bob said.  “I wish I could play an instrument.”

“We will see about it, in time, Bob.  We want a French horn; but I don’t see, at present, where you are to practise.”

“Has uncle ever been here?” Bob asked, late in the evening.

“Yes, he came here the evening we got back from our fishing expedition.  He wanted to see the place, before he finally settled about you coming here.  My wife was a little afraid of him; but there was no occasion, and everything went off capitally ­except that Sophy would not produce her piccolo.  I walked back with him, till he came upon a hackney coach.

“He said as he got in, ’I have spent a most pleasant evening, Medlin.  You are a very lucky fellow.’

“I went back to work the next morning, and we both dropt into the old groove; and nothing more was said until yesterday, when he informed me that you would come, today.”

“Oh, dear!” Bob said, as he started with the clerk, at eight o’clock on the following morning.  “Now I am going to begin at that wretched counting house.”

“No, you are not, Bob.  You are not coming in there, at present.  When your uncle and I were talking ­when we were fishing, you know ­he said that he saw no use in your going in there, at present; and thought it would be quite time for you to learn how the books are kept, in another three or four years; and that, till then, you could go into the cellar.  You will learn bottling, and packing, and blending, and something about the quality and value of wines.  You will find it much more pleasant than being shut up in a counting house, making out bills and keeping ledgers.”

“A great deal,” Bob said, joyfully.  “I sha’n’t mind that at all.”

Bob observed a noticeable change in his companion’s demeanour, when he arrived at the tree and, on passing the last garden, his face assumed a stolid expression; his brisk, springy walk settled down into a business pace; his words became few; and he was again a steady, and mechanical, clerk.

A fortnight later, Bob was summoned to the counting house.

“Mr. Bale wishes to see you,” Mr. Medlin said.

Bob entered, wondering what he was wanted for.

“I received a subpoena, a week ago, Robert, for you to attend as a witness at Kingston tomorrow.  These interruptions to business are very annoying.  I did not mention it to you before for, if I had done so, you would be thinking of nothing else.

“This morning I have received a letter from Admiral Langton, requesting me to allow you to go down by the stage, this afternoon, and to sleep at his house.  He will take you over, in the morning; and you will sleep there again, tomorrow night, and come back by the early stage.

“I trust that you will endeavour to curb your exuberance of spirits.  This is a very grave matter, and anything like levity would be altogether out of place.

“The letter says that the stage leaves the Bell Tavern at four o’clock.”

Bob replied, gravely, that he would be there in time; and went off to his work again, until twelve o’clock.

When he arrived at the admiral’s, at a quarter to six, a lad in midshipman’s uniform came rushing out into the hall.

“Hulloa, Bob!”

“Why, Jim! ­but no, I suppose I ought to say Mr. James Sankey, to an officer of your importance.  How comes it, sir, that you are so soon attired in His Majesty’s uniform?”

“I will punch your head, Bob, if you go on with that nonsense.

“But I say, isn’t it jolly?  The very afternoon after you left came down a big letter, with a tremendous seal; and therein I was informed that I was appointed to His Majesty’s ship Brilliant, and was ordered to join immediately.  Of course, I did not know what to do, so I came up here; and who do you think I found here?  Captain Langton, the admiral’s son, who is in command of the Brilliant.

“Of course, it was he who had got me the appointment.  He was very kind, and told me that I could not join until after this trial; so that I could go down home, and stop there, till today; and the admiral sent me straight off, to be measured for my uniform.  When I started, next day, he gave me a letter to my father ­an awfully nice letter it was, saying that he intended to present me with my first outfit.  I got here about an hour ago, and have been putting on my uniform, to see how it fitted.”

“You mean to see how you looked in it, Jim?  It looks first rate.  I wish I was in one too, and was going with you, instead of sticking in Philpot Lane.”

“I am awfully sorry for you, Bob.  It must be beastly.”

“Well, it is not so bad as I expected, Jim, and uncle is turning out much better; and I don’t live there, but with the head clerk, out at Hackney.  He is an awfully jolly sort of fellow ­you never saw such a rum chap.  I will tell you all about it, afterwards.

“I suppose I ought to go in, and see the admiral.”

“He is out, at present, Bob.  He will be back at eight o’clock to supper, so you can come up and tell me all about it.  Captain Langton is here, too.”

Captain Langton spoke very kindly to Bob, when the two boys came down to supper; and told him that if, at any time, he changed his mind, and there was a vacancy for a midshipman on board his ship, he would give him the berth.

“I should be very glad to have you with me,” he said, “after the service you rendered my father and sister.”

On the following morning, Fullarton and Wharton came up from the school, and two carriages conveyed the witnesses over to Kingston.  The prisoners, Bob heard, were notorious and desperate criminals, whom the authorities had long been anxious to lay hands on.  The butler was one of the gang, and had obtained his post by means of a forged character.  The trial only occupied two hours for, taken in the act as the men were, there was no defence whatever.  All four were sentenced to be hung, and the judge warmly complimented the four boys upon their conduct in the matter.

The next morning, Bob returned to his work in the city.

For the next three months, his existence was a regular one.  On arriving in the cellar, he took off his jacket and put on a large apron, that completely covered him; and from that time until five o’clock he worked with the other boys - bottling, packing, storing the bottles away in the bins, or taking them down as required.  He learned, from the foreman, something of the localities from which the wine came, their value and prices; but had not begun to distinguish them by taste, or bouquet.  Mr. Bale, the foreman said, had given strict orders that he was not to begin tasting, at present.

Three days before Christmas, one of the clerks brought him down word that Mr. Bale wished to see him in the office, at five o’clock.

During the three, months he had scarcely spoken to his uncle.  The latter had nodded to him, whenever he came into the cellar; and had regularly said, “Well, Robert, how are you getting on?”

To which he had, as regularly, replied, “Very well, uncle.”

He supposed that the present meeting was for the purpose of inviting him to dine at Philpot Lane, on Christmas Day; and although he knew that he should enjoy the festivity more, at Hackney, he was prepared to accept it very willingly.

“I have sent for you, Robert,” Mr. Bale said, when he entered his office, “to say that your sister has written to ask me to go down to spend Christmas with her, at Portsmouth.  As her husband’s regiment is on the point of going abroad, I have decided on accepting her invitation and, for the same reason, I shall take you down with me.  You will therefore have your box packed, tonight.  I shall send down a cart to fetch it, tomorrow.  You will sleep here tomorrow night, and we start the next morning.”

“Thank you very much, uncle,” Bob said, in delight; and then, seeing that nothing further was expected of him, he ran off to join Mr. Medlin, who was waiting for him outside.

“What do you think, Mr. Medlin?  I am going down to spend Christmas at my sister’s.”

“Ah!” the clerk said, in a dull unsympathetic voice.  “Well, mind how you walk, Mr. Robert.  It does not look well, coming out from a place of business as if you were rushing out of school.”

Bob knew well enough that it was no use, whatever, trying to get his companion to take any interest in matters unconnected with business, at present; so he dropped into his regular pace, and did not open his lips again, until they had passed the usual boundary.

Then Mr. Medlin said, briskly, “So you are going down to your sister’s, Bob!”

“Yes, that will be first rate, won’t it?  Of course, I went down in the summer to Canterbury, and hardly expected to go again this year.  As I have only been three months here, I did not even think of going.

“It will be the last holiday I shall have, for some time.  You know Carrie said, when she wrote to me a month ago, that the regiment expected to be ordered abroad soon; and uncle said it is on the point of going, now.

“He is coming down with me.”

His voice fell a little, at this part of the announcement.

“He is, eh?  You think you will have to be on your best behaviour, Bob?”

“Before you told me about him, Mr. Medlin, I should have thought it would quite spoil the holiday.  But I do not feel it so bad, now.”

“He will be all right, Bob.  You have never seen him outside the city, yet.  Still, I shouldn’t be up to any tricks with him, you know, if I were you ­shouldn’t put cobbler’s wax on his pigtail, or anything of that sort.”

“As if I should think of such a thing, Mr. Medlin!”

“Well, I don’t know, Bob.  You have made Jack pretty nearly as wild as you are, yourself.  You are quite a scandal to the neighbourhood, you two.  You nearly frightened those two ladies next door into fits, last week, by carrying in that snowman, and sticking it up in their garden, when you knew they were out.  I thought they were both going to have fits, when they rushed in to tell me there was a ghost in their garden.”

“I believe you suggested it yourself, Mr. Medlin,” Bob said, indignantly.  “Besides, it served them right, for coming in to complain that we had thrown stones and broken their window, when we had done nothing of the sort.”

“It was rather lucky for you that they did so, Bob; for you see, we were all so indignant, then, that they didn’t venture to accuse you of the snowman business ­though I have no doubt they were convinced, in their own minds, that it was you.  But that is only one out of twenty pranks that you and Jack have been up to.”

“Jack and I and someone else, Mr Medlin.  We carry them out, but I think someone else always suggests them.”

“Not suggest, Bob ­far from it.  If I happen to say that it would be a most reprehensible thing if anyone were to do something, somehow or other that is the very thing that Jack and you do.  It was only last week I said that it would be a very objectionable trick if anyone was to tie paper bands round the neck of the clergyman’s black cat ­who is always stealing our chickens ­and to my surprise, the next morning, when we started for business, there was quite a crowd outside his house, watching the cat calmly sitting over the porch, with white bands round its neck.  Now, that is an example of what I mean.”

“Quite so, Mr. Medlin, that is just what I meant, too; and it was much better than throwing stones at him.  It is a savage beast, though it does look so demure; and scratched Jack’s hand and mine, horribly, when we were tying on the bands.”

At the tree the others met them, and they laughed and chatted all the way back; the young ones expressing much regret, however, that Bob was to be away at Christmas.

At the appointed time, Mr. Bale and Bob took their places on the coach.  The latter felt a little oppressed; for his uncle had, the evening before, been putting him through a sort of examination as to the value of wines; and had been exceedingly severe when Bob had not acquitted himself to his satisfaction, but had mixed up Malaga with Madeira, and had stated that a French wine was grown near Cadiz.

“I expect I shall know them better when I get to taste them,” Bob had urged, in excuse.  “When you don’t know anything about the wines, it is very difficult to take an interest in them.  It is like learning that a town in India is on the Ganges.  You don’t care anything about the town, and you don’t care anything about the Ganges; and you are sure to mix it up, next time, with some other town on some other river.”

“If those are your ideas, Robert, I think you had better go to bed,” Mr. Bale had said, sternly; and Bob had gone to bed, and had thought what a nuisance it was that his uncle was going down to Portsmouth, just when he wanted to be jolly with Carrie and her husband for the last time.

Little had been said at breakfast, and it was not until the coach was rattling along the high road, and the last house had been left behind him, that Bob’s spirits began to rise.  There had been a thaw, a few days before, and the snow had disappeared; but it was now freezing sharply again.

“The air is brisk.  Do you feel it cold, Robert?” Mr. Bale said, breaking silence for the first time.

“I feel cold about the toes, and about the ears and nose, uncle,” Bob said, “but I am not very likely to feel cold, anywhere else.”

His uncle looked down at the boy, who was wedged in between him and a stout woman.

“Well, no,” he agreed; “you are pretty closely packed.  You had better pull that muffler over your ears more.  It was rather different weather when you went down to Canterbury in the summer.”

“That it was,” Bob replied, heartily.  “It was hot and dusty, just; and there were a man and woman, sitting opposite, who kept on drinking out of a bottle, every five minutes.  She had a baby with her, too, who screamed almost all the way.  I consider I saved that baby’s life.”

“How was that, Robert?”

“Well you see, uncle, they had finished their bottle by the time we got to Sevenoaks; and we all got down for dinner there and, before we sat down, the man went to the bar and got it filled up again.  A pint of gin, filled up with water ­I heard him order it.  He put it in the pocket of his coat, and hung the coat up on a peg when he sat down to dinner.

“I was not long over my dinner, and finished before they did; and I took the bottle out, and ran out to the yard and emptied it, and filled it up with water, and put it back in the pocket again, without his noticing it.

“You should have seen what a rage he was in, when he took his first sip from the bottle, after we had started.  He thought the man at the inn had played him a trick, and he stood up and shouted to the coachman to turn back again; but of course he wasn’t going to do that, and every one laughed ­except the woman.  I think she had had more than was good for her, already, and she cried for about an hour.

“The next two places where we changed horses, we did it so quick that the man hadn’t time to get down.  The third place he did and, though the guard said we shouldn’t stop a minute, he went into the public house.  The guard shouted, but he didn’t come out, and off we went without him.  Then he came out running, and waving his arms, but the coachman wouldn’t stop.  The woman got down, with the child, at the next place we changed horses; and I suppose they went on next day and, if they started sober, they did perhaps get to Dover all right.”

“That was a very nasty trick,” the woman, who was sitting next to Bob, said sharply.

Bob had noticed that she had already opened a basket on her lap, and had partaken of liquid refreshment.

“But you see, I saved the baby, ma’am,” Bob said, humbly.  “The woman was sitting at the end and, if she had taken her share of the second bottle, the chances are she would have dropped the baby.  It was a question of saving life, you see.”

Bob felt a sudden convulsion in his uncle’s figure.

“It is all very well to talk in that way,” the woman said, angrily.  “It was just a piece of impudence, and you ought to have been flogged for it.  I have no patience with such impudent doings.  A wasting of good liquor, too.”

“I don’t think, madam,” Mr. Bale said, “it was as much wasted as it would have been, had they swallowed it; for at least it did no harm.  I cannot see myself why, because people get outside a coach, they should consider it necessary to turn themselves into hogs.”

“I will trouble you to keep your insinuations to yourself,” the woman said, in great indignation.  “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, at your age, encouraging a boy in such ways.  There is them as can stand the cold, and there’s them as can’t; and a little good liquor helps them, wonderful.  I am sich, myself.”

And she defiantly took out her bottle from her basket, and applied it to her lips.

“I was not speaking personally, my good woman,” Mr. Bale said.

“I would have you to know,” the woman snapped, “that I ain’t your good woman.  I wouldn’t demean myself to the like.  I will ask this company if it is right as a unprotected female should be insulted, on the outside of one of His Majesty’s mails?”

The other passengers, who had been struggling with their laughter, endeavoured to pacify her with the assurance that no insult had been meant; and as Mr. Bale made no reply, she subsided into silence, grumbling occasionally to herself.

“I am a-going down,” she broke out, presently, “to meet my husband, and I don’t mind who knows it.  He is a warrant officer, he is, on board the Latona, as came in last week with two prizes.  There ain’t nothing to be ashamed of, in that.

“And I will thank you, boy,” she said, turning sharply upon Bob, “not to be a-scrouging me so.  I pay for my place, I do.”

“I think you ought to pay for two places,” Bob said.  “I am sure you have got twice as much room as I have.  And if there is any scrouging, it isn’t me.”

“Would you have any objection, sir,” the woman said majestically, to a man sitting on the other side of her, “to change places with me?  I ain’t a-going to bear no longer with the insults of this boy, and of the person as calls himself a man, a-sitting next to him.”

The change was effected, to Bob’s great satisfaction.

“You see, Robert, what you have brought down upon me,” Mr. Bale said.  “This comes of your telling stories about bottles, when there is a woman with one in her basket next to you.”

“I really was not thinking of her when I spoke, uncle.  But I am glad, now, for I really could hardly breathe, before.

“Why, uncle, I had no idea you smoked!” he added, as Mr. Bale took a cigar case from his pocket.

“I do not smoke, when I am in the city, Robert; but I see no harm in a cigar ­in fact I like one ­at other times.  I observed a long pipe on the mantelpiece, at Mr. Medlin’s; and indeed, I have seen that gentleman smoke, when we have been out together, but I have never observed him indulging in that habit, in the city.”

“Oh, yes!  He smokes at home,” Bob said.

“I have great confidence in Mr. Medlin, Robert.  You have been comfortable with him, I hope?”

“Could not be more comfortable, sir.”

“An excellent man of business, Robert, and most trustworthy.  A serious-minded man.”

Bob was looking up, and saw a little twinkle in Mr. Bale’s eye.

“You don’t find it dull, I hope?”

“Not at all dull, sir.  Mr. Medlin and his family are very musical.”

“Musical, are they, Robert?” Mr. Bale said, in a tone of surprise.  “As far as I have seen in the counting house, I should not have taken him to be musical.”

“No, I don’t think you would, uncle.  Just the same way as one wouldn’t think it likely that you would smoke a cigar.”

“Well, no, Robert.  You see, one must not always go by appearances.”

“No, sir; that is just what Mr. Medlin says,” Bob replied, smiling.

“Oh, he says that, does he?  I suppose he has been telling you that we go out fishing together?”

“He did mention that, sir.”

“You must not always believe what Medlin says, Robert.”

“No, sir?  I thought you told me he was perfectly trustworthy?”

“In some points, boy; but it is notorious that, from all times, the narratives of fishermen must be received with a large amount of caution.  The man who can be trusted with untold gold cannot be relied upon to give, with even an approach to accuracy, the weights of the fish he has caught; and indeed, all his statements with reference to the pursuit must be taken with a large discount.

“You were surprised, when you heard that I went fishing, Robert?”

“Not more surprised than I was when you lit your cigar, sir.”

“Well, you know what Horace said, Robert.  I forget what it was in the Latin, but it meant: 

“‘He is a poor soul, who never rejoices.’

“The bow must be relaxed, Robert, or it loses its stiffness and spring.  I, myself, always bear this in mind; and endeavour to forget that there is such a place as the city of London, or a place of business called Philpot Lane, directly I get away from it.”

“Don’t you think that you could forget, too, uncle, that the name I am known by in the city is Robert; and that my name, at all other times, is Bob?”

“I will try to do so, if you make a point of it,” Mr. Bale said, gravely; “but at the same time, it appears to me that Bob is a name for a short-tailed sheepdog, rather than for a boy.”

“I don’t mind who else is called by it, uncle.  Besides, sheepdogs are very useful animals.”

“They differ from boys in one marked respect, Bob.”

“What is that, uncle?”

“They always attend strictly to business, lad.  They are most conscientious workers.  Now, this is more than can be said for boys.”

“But I don’t suppose the sheepdogs do much, while they are puppies, uncle.”

“Humph!  I think you have me there, Bob.  I suppose we must make allowances for them both.

“Well, we shall be at Guildford in half an hour, and will stop there for dinner.  I shall not be sorry to get down to stamp my feet a bit.  It is very cold here, in spite of these rugs.”

It was seven o’clock in the evening when the coach drew up at the George Hotel, in Portsmouth.  Captain O’Halloran was at the door to meet them.

“Well, Mr. Bale, you have had a coldish drive down, today.

“How are you, Bob?”

“At present, I am cold,” Bob said.  “The last two hours have been bitter.”

“I have taken bedrooms here for you, Mr. Bale.  There is no barrack accommodation, at present, for everyone is back from leave.  Any other time, we could have put you up.

“Now, if you will point out your baggage, my man will see it taken up to your rooms; and you can come straight on to me.  Carrie has got supper ready, and a big fire blazing.  It is not three minutes’ walk from here.”

They were soon seated at table and, after the meal was over, they drew round the fire.

“So you have really become a man of business, Bob,” his sister said.  “I was very glad to hear, from your letter, that you liked it better than you expected.”

“But it will be a long while, yet, before he is a man of business, niece.  It is like having a monkey in a china shop.  The other day I went down to the cellar, just in time to see him put down a bottle so carelessly that it tumbled over.  Unfortunately there was a row of them he had just filled; and a dozen went down, like ninepins.  The corks had not been put in, and half the contents were lost before they could be righted.  And the wine was worth eighty shillings a dozen.”

“And what can you expect of him, Mr. Bale?” Gerald O’Halloran said.  “Is it a spalpeen like that you would trust with the handling of good wine?  I would as soon set a cat to bottle milk.”

“He is young for it, yet,” Mr. Bale agreed.  “But when a boy amuses himself by breaking out of school at three o’clock in the morning, and fighting burglars, what are you to do with him?”

“I should give him a medal, for his pluck, Mr. Bale; and let him do something where he would have a chance of showing his spirit.”

“And make him as wild and harum-scarum as you are, yourself, O’Halloran; and then expect him to turn out a respectable merchant, afterwards?  I am sure I don’t wish to be troubled with him, till he has got rid of what you call his spirits; but what are you to do with such a pickle as this?  There have been more bottles broken, since he came, than there ordinarily are in the course of a year; and I suspect him of corrupting my chief clerk, and am in mortal apprehension that he will be getting into some scrape, at Hackney, and make the place too hot for him.

“I never gave you credit for much brains, Carrie, but how it was you let your brother grow up like this is more than I can tell.”

Although this all sounded serious, Bob did not feel at all alarmed.  Carrie, however, thought that her uncle was greatly vexed, and tried to take up the cudgels in his defence.

“I am sure Bob does not mean any harm, uncle.”

“I did not say that he did, niece; but if he does harm, it comes to the same thing.

“Well, we need not talk about that now.  So I hear that you are going out to the Mediterranean?”

“Yes, uncle, to Gibraltar.  It is a nice station, everyone says, and I am very pleased.  There are so many places where there is fighting going on, now, that I think we are most fortunate in going there.  I was so afraid the regiment might be sent either to America, or India.”

“And I suppose you would rather have gone where there was fighting, O’Halloran?”

“I would,” the officer said, promptly.  “What is the use of your going into the army, if you don’t fight?”

“I should say, what is the use of going into the army, at all?” Mr. Bale said, testily.  “Still, I suppose someone must go.”

“I suppose so, sir,” Captain O’Halloran said, laughing.  “If it were not for the army and navy, I fancy you trading gentlemen would very soon find the difference.  Besides, there are some of us born to it.  I should never have made a figure in the city, for instance.”

“I fancy not,” Mr. Bale said, dryly.  “You will understand, O’Halloran, that I am not objecting in the slightest to your being in the army.  My objection solely lies in the fact that you, being in the army, should have married my niece; and that, instead of coming to keep house for me, comfortably, she is going to wander about, with you, to the ends of the earth.”

Carrie laughed.

“How do you know someone else would not have snapped me up, if he hadn’t, uncle?”

“That is right, Carrie.

“You would have found her twice as difficult to manage as Bob, Mr. Bale.  You would never have kept her in Philpot Lane, if I hadn’t taken her.  There are some people can be tamed down, and there are some who can’t; and Carrie is one of the latter.

“I should pity you, from my heart, if you had her on your hands, Mr. Bale.  If ever I get to be a colonel, it is she will command the regiment.”

“Well, it is good that one of us should have sense, Gerald,” his wife said, laughing.  “And now, you had better put the whisky on the table, unless uncle would prefer some mulled port wine.”

“Neither one nor the other, my dear.  Your brother is half asleep, now, and it is as much as I can do to keep my eyes open.  After the cold ride we have had, the sooner we get back to the George, the better.

“We will breakfast there, Carrie.  I don’t know what your hours are but, when I am away on a holiday, I always give myself a little extra sleep.  Besides, your husband will, I suppose, have to be on duty; and I have no doubt it will suit you, as well as me, for us to breakfast at the George.”

“Perhaps it will be better, uncle, if you don’t mind.  Gerald happens to be orderly officer for the day, and will have to get his breakfast as he can, and will be busy all the morning; but I shall be ready for you by ten.”

At that hour Bob appeared, alone.

“Uncle won’t come round till one o’clock, Carrie.  He said he should take a quiet stroll round, by himself, and look at the ships; and that, no doubt, we should like to have a talk together.”

“Is he very cross with you, Bob?” she asked, anxiously.  “You know he really is kind at heart, very kind; but I am afraid he must be very hard, as a master.”

“Not a bit, Carrie.  I expected he was going to be so, but he isn’t the least like that.  He is very much liked by everyone there.  He doesn’t say much, and he certainly looks stiff and grim enough for anything; but he isn’t so, really, not a bit.”

“Didn’t he scold you dreadfully about your upsetting those twelve bottles of wine?”

“He never said a word about it, and I did not know at the time he had seen me.  John, the foreman ­the one who used to take me out in the holidays ­would not have said anything about it.  He said, of course accidents did happen, sometimes, with the boys; and when they did, he himself blew them up, and there was no occasion to mention it to Mr. Bale, when it wasn’t anything very serious.  But of course, I could not have that; and said that either he must tell uncle, or I should.

“It really happened because my fingers were so cold I could not feel the bottle.  Of course the cellar is not cold, but I had been outside, taking in a waggon load of bottles that had just arrived, and counting them, and my fingers got regularly numbed.

“So John went to the counting house, and told him about the wine being spilt.  He said I wished him to tell him, and how it had happened.”

“What did uncle say, Bob?”

“He said he was glad to hear that I told John to tell him; but that he knew it already, for he had just come down to the cellar when the bottles went over and, as he didn’t wish to interfere with the foreman’s work, had come back to the counting house without anyone noticing he had been there.  He said, of course boys could not be trusted like men; and that, as he had chosen to put me there, he must put up with accidents.  He never spoke about it to me, till last night.”

“Well, he seemed very vexed about it, Bob, and made a great deal of it.”

“He didn’t mean it, Carrie; and he knew I knew he didn’t mean it.  He knows I am beginning to understand him.”

That evening, Mr. Bale sent Bob back to the hotel by himself.

“I thought I would get him out of the way,” he said, when Bob had left.  “I wanted to have a chat with you about him.

“You see, Carrie, I acted hastily in taking him away from school; but it seemed to me that he must be getting into a very bad groove, to be playing such pranks as breaking out in the middle of the night.  I was sorry, afterwards; partly because it had upset all my plans, partly because I was not sure that I had done the best thing by him.

“I had intended that he should have stopped for another year, at school; by that time he would be between sixteen and seventeen, and I thought of taking him into the office for six months or so, to begin with, for him to learn a little of the routine.  Then I had intended to send him out to Oporto, for two years, and then to Cadiz for two years; so that he would have learnt Portuguese and Spanish well, got up all there was to learn about the different growths, and established friendly relations with my agents.

“Now, as it happens, all these plans have been upset.  My agent at Oporto died, a month ago.  His son succeeds him.  He is a young man, and not yet married.  In the first place, I don’t suppose he would care about being bothered with Bob; and in the second place, boys of Bob’s age are not likely to submit very quietly to the authority of a foreigner.  Then, too, your brother is full of mischief and fun; and I don’t suppose foreigners would understand him, in the least, and he would get into all manner of scrapes.

“My correspondent at Cadiz is an elderly man, without a family, and the same objection would arise in his case; and moreover, from what I hear from him and from other Spanish sources, there is a strong feeling against England in Spain and, now that we are at war with France, and have troubles in America, I think it likely enough they will join in against us.  Of course my correspondent writes cautiously, but in his last letter he strongly advises me to buy largely, at once, as there is no saying about the future; and several of my friends in the trade have received similar advice.

“I have put the boy into the cellar for, at the moment, I could see nothing else to do with him.  But really, the routine he is learning is of little importance, and there is no occasion for him to learn to do these things himself.  He would pick up all he wants to know there, when he came back, in a very short time.”

“Then what are you thinking of doing, uncle?” Carrie asked, after a pause, as she saw that Mr. Bale expected her to say something.

“It seems to me that a way has opened out of the difficulty.  I don’t want him to go back to school again.  He knows quite as much Latin as is required, in an importer of wines.  I want him to learn Spanish and Portuguese, and to become a gentleman, and a man of the world.  I have stuck to Philpot Lane, all my life; but there is no reason why he should do so, after me.  Things are changing in the city, and many of our merchants no longer live there, but have houses in the country, and drive or ride to them.  Some people shake their heads over what they call newfangled notions.  I think it is good for a man to get right away from his business, when he has done work.

“But this is not the point.  Bob is too young to begin to learn the business abroad.  Two years too young, at least.  But there is no reason why he should not begin to learn Spanish.  Now, I thought if I could find someone I could intrust him to, where his home would be bright and pleasant, he might go there for a couple of years.  Naturally I should be prepared to pay a fair sum ­say 200 pounds a year ­for him, for of course no one is going to be bothered with a boy, without being paid for it.”

Carrie listened for something further to come.  Then her husband broke in: 

“I see what you are driving at, Mr. Bale, and Carrie and myself would be delighted to have him.

“Don’t you see, Carrie?  Your uncle means that Bob shall stop with us, and learn the language there.”

“That would be delightful!” Carrie exclaimed, enthusiastically.  “Do you really mean that, uncle?”

“That is really what I do mean, niece.  It seems to me that that is the very best thing we could do with the young scamp.”

“It would be capital!” Carrie went on.  “It is what I should like above everything.”

“A nicer arrangement couldn’t be, Mr. Bale.  It will suit us all.  Bob will learn the language, he will be a companion to Carrie when I am on duty, and we will make a man of him.  But he won’t be able to go out with us, I am afraid.  Officers’ wives and families get their passages in the transports, but I am afraid it would be no use to ask for one for Bob.  Besides, we sail in four days.”

“No, I will arrange about his passage, and so on.

“Well, I am glad that my proposal suits you both.  The matter has been worrying me for the last three months, and it is a comfort that it is off my mind.

“I will go back to my hotel now.  I will send Bob round in the morning, and you can tell him about it.”