“With all my heart,” said Sir Charles; “girl or boy, I don't care which; but I'd give a few thousands if it was here, and the mother safe.”
He hurried away, ashamed of having uttered the feelings of his heart to a farmer's wife. To avoid discussion, he sent Mrs. Millar and the boy off all in a hurry, and then told Lady Bassett what he had done.
She appeared much distressed at that, and asked what she had done.
He soothed her, and said she was not to blarne at all; and she must not blame him either. He had done it for the best.
“After all, you are the master,” said she, submissively.
“I am,” said he, “and men will be tyrants, you know.”
Then she flung her arm round her tyrant's neck, and there was an end of the discussion.
One day he inquired for her, and heard, to his no small satisfaction, she had driven to Mrs. Meyrick's, with a box of things for Mr. Bassett. She stayed at the farmhouse all day, and Sir Charles felt sure he had done the right thing.
Mrs. Meyrick found out to her cost the difference between a nursling and a rampageous little boy.
Her lamb, as she called him, was now a young monkey, vigorous, active, restless, and, unfortunately, as strong on his pins as most boys of six. It took two women to look after him, and smart ones too, so swiftly did he dash off into some mischief or other. At last Mrs. Meyrick simplified matters in some degree by locking the large gate, and even the small wicket, and ordering all the farm people and milkmaids to keep an eye on him, and bring him straight to her if he should stray, for he seemed to hate in-doors. Never was such a boy.