'Where are they?' asked Bryan, with a saucy look. 'Have you forgotten our hills, Will?'

The saddle was by this time changed, and now Katie was mounted on the Imp, Mrs. Mayne declaring that his behaviour made her heart stand still. Uncle Bryan declined the cart, saying that he and Will would walk up together. 'Only, Bryan and Katie, don't say we are coming, for we had set our hearts on a surprise.'

'Well, but I may tell Lucy,' answered Katie; 'because you know your rooms must be got ready, and mother is so easily tired now.'

'Very well, tell Lucy. Off with you, little one; that beast does not like standing.'

Presently the whole party had started, Bryan performing feats with his whip which actually induced Dobbin to trot, in a slow, unwilling fashion, down the hills; but he revenged himself going up, and in those D-shire lanes you are always either climbing up a hill or going down one.

'Where is the little girl, Bryan?' inquired Mrs. Mayne presently. I can see a long bit of the road now, and I don't see her anywhere.'

'I'm sure she is in the fields, ma'am; she wanted a good gallop. It's so long since she had a ride, and once, -but I suppose you know about the ponies?'

'We know that your father has lost a great many of them,' she replied.

Nearly all; and you know those ponies-not of course the very ponies we knew, but their grandfathers and grandmothers have been on the farm for ever so long, ever since Captain Wilfred Lyle, who was a sailor, brought a pair from Shetland. Now, old Dobbin here, and the Imp (that's the one Katie is riding), and one very young

one, but she's such a little beauty, are all we have left.'

'How did it happen, my lad?' said the Captain; 'tell us, if you don't mind.'

First there was a sickness among them, and we lost a great many of the grown-up ones. Then came the dreadful mad dog-day. Oh, sir, that day, how I hate to remember it! Father was ill-it was just the time when he was at the worst; and Katie and I had the care of all the children. We had taken them out on the lawn, about half-way between the house and the river. Suddenly we heard shouts, and saw some soldiers and a crowd of common-looking men running along the river side with pitchforks, and sticks, and things; and when they saw us, they called out, "Mad dog! mad dog-run, children, run! he's going towards you!" We didn't dare to scream for help because of father,-he'd have jumped up, I know; but we seized the little ones. I carried Edie, and Katie the baby, and we all ran,-Jack, Alfred, and Charlie; we got into the house and shut the door.'

'All safe!' said Uncle Jack.

'Yes; and I was thinking how glad I was, when Katie, who was at the window, came and whispered to me, "Bryan, Jem and Robbie are on the Steeps, counting the ponies." We peeped out. Something had stopped the dog, and the men were getting up with him. Oh, how little we knew about what was happening! You know the river twists and bends, and the dog, when we first saw him, was running along the smooth bit at the edge; and if he kept to that we knew that we could reach the boys first. "They'll kill him now!" cried Katie. But no; as she said it the beast came out from behind some shrubs and ran on towards the steeps, and the men were still a

good way behind. Then we saw that Edwin was among

them.'

'Why didn't he warn the other boys?'

'He knew nothing about them. He had been sent to Yeovil on business, and was only coming back from the train when he met the crowd after the dog, which had run off from the cavalry barracks at

.'

What did you do?'

'Well, go on, Bryan. 'We gave baby to Jack, and made him promise not to leave her. We shut them all up in the keeping room, and then we crept out and ran,—we can run awful fast, Katie and me. We went straight over everything.'

'And got there in time?'

'Only just; and the boys had not even a stick with them. So we clambered over the cliff, into a little cave there is there; and we were safe enough there. After a while we heard a shot, and then a shout; so we clambered up again. Ned had got father's gun and had shot the dog; and we stopped to bury him, some of us, while Jem ran to see that our dogs had been out of the way. We saw Ned whisper to him; and then he came and told us that no dog had been about except '

Here Bryan suddenly broke down, and burst into a hearty fit of crying.

'Don't mind me,' he said; 'only he was our own-own dog, Katie's and mine. Father gave him to us when we were quite little. He had been on the lawn near us, though we didn't know it; and when we ran, he saw the dog, and went to meet him, to defend us. For he wasn't a quarrelsome dog; only he saw he must defend us. That was what made the mad dog stop, you know; it saved us all. And he was badly bitten. And Ned told us father would say it was right-it was wrong to risk

keeping him; and we thought Katie would die, nearly. Oh, ma'am, Help was such a dear dog!'

Aunt Cassie sobbed most heartily in company with the boy, and the sailor's kindly eyes were by no means dry.

'Ned was right, my boy,' said he; 'it's too fearful a risk to run for any poor dumb creature that has no soul to be anxious about. I'm sure Ned was nearly as sorry as you were?'

'Indeed I think he was. I never remember seeing Ned cry before; and he did cry that evening. Katie says she loves him twice as much since that.'

'But about the ponies, Bryan?'

And they go mad just And many that did not go

'Ah! we thought of the dogs, but we never thought of the ponies. If father had been well perhaps some of them could have been saved. A good many had been bitten before Ned came up with the gun. the same as dogs, you know. mad were so frightened by the others, that they went over the cliff into the deep water, and were killed. So when father got well he was obliged to sell all that were left, nearly. Puck and Mopsie, our ponies, were sold then; but we were so glad they had not been bitten like poor Help.'

'Hard lines,' said the sailor; 'hard lines, boy. But you're young; things fall lightly on such as you. It's your father and our pretty Lucy that I think of.'

'Lucy is not the pretty one, sir; 'that's Jane, and she's in Dresden.'

'Ay, ay; but I mean your mother. prettiest-wasn't she, Cassie?'

The sweetest,

'Mother!' cried Bryan, half angry. Oh, mother isjust herself!'

'As pretty as ever,' said the Captain, quite unconscious of the offence he had given to the queer boy-mind.

'I don't know, sir; but she is just mother, you know. Here's our gate, and there's Katie waiting for us.'

Katie rode up, her cheeks glowing and her eyes dancing, -a good gallop was such a delight, and she could enjoy it thoroughly, knowing that Bryan had had one too.

'Bryan, dear, lend me your handkerchief. I want one, and mine is tied round Dobbin's ear.'

You would not call this much of a joke, would you? But in the pleasure of meeting again it seemed quite a good one to Bryan and Katie, and their laugh set the others laughing too. So they arrived at the hall door in a cheerful state of mind. There stood Mrs. Lyle, and with her her eldest daughter Lucy; and in the hall, seated in a big arm-chair, was Mr. Lyle. At the sound of wheels, three tall, thin, pale lads came hurrying round the corner of the house; these were Edwin, James, and Robert, and, delicate as they still looked, they were so much better than they had been, that their mother almost thought they looked like themselves again. Captain Mayne jumped out of the phaeton before it stopped, with a cheery,' Hurra, Lucy!' Mrs. Mayne bundled out after him; and great were the hand-shakings and warm the greetings on both sides.

'It was so kind of you to come away from your new house to see us,' murmured Mrs. Lyle.

Who should see after you in your trouble, Lucy, if not your own flesh and blood? What a time it is since we were here! This tall fellow Ned was the baby, and Lucy here was only just toddling about. But it wouldn't have been so long if we'd ever had time for a visit. What's that old song you used to sing for me, Lucy ?—" Oceans