LORD BEAUCOURT arrived at Kelmersdale somewhat too early for dinner, and, having been duly informed by Mrs. Rayburn that she was in difficulties about the two children, he desired her to come to his study and tell him all about it.
"Now, Mrs. Thompson—no, Rayburn, by the way—what's wrong with you?"
"My lord, that unlucky young man, my stepson, not content with ruining himself and me, speculating and getting dismissed, has got into worse trouble in America. To the best of my belief, he's at this present time in prison for some offence or other—cheating people, I believe. He wrote for his wife, and she brought the boys to me and went off, and not a line have I had from her since. And the boys are—well, indeed, my lord, they are in mischief from morning to night, and I am worn out running after them. Since the shock I got about their father, my health is not at all good."
Being further questioned, she described the affair of that morning, and I am sorry to say that Lord Beaucourt, who was a nobleman of a merry turn of mind, laughed heartily.
"The little pickles!" he exclaimed. "They deserved a rod, no doubt."
"They might have burned down the Castle, my lord."
"Best thing that could happen to it, Mrs. Rayburn. It is nothing but an expense. But stone walls four feet thick do not burn easily. Well, I will think about it. I know several institutions that might answer; it would be easier, of course, if they were orphans. But, never mind, we'll find a school for them somewhere. I will talk to you again about it."
He had to talk to her again, much sooner than he either wished or expected. As soon as dinner was fairly served, Mrs. Rayburn, who had been assisting the somewhat inexperienced cook, went to look for Fred, whom she expected to find in the little turret bedroom, as she had done on similar occasions more than once. For Fred had quite a genius for disappearing when most wanted to answer for some choice piece of mischief. Not finding him there, she said to herself:
"He's hiding in my sitting-room, to be near Frank."
She searched the sitting-room, but, as we know, Fred was not there, nor was Frank in the closet.