“Ay, I know a sight more than the fools about here. I'm a poacher. Just you put me on to his track. I'll soon run into him, if he is above ground.”
“A child like you!” cried Lady Bassett; “how can you do that?” and she began to wring her hands again.
“I'll show you,” said the boy, getting very impatient, “if you will just leave off crying like a great baby, and come to any place you like where he has been to-day and left a mark—”
“Ah!” cried Lady Bassett.
“I'm a poacher,” repeated Reginald, quite proudly; “you forget that.”
“Come with me,” cried Lady Bassett, starting up. She whipped on her bonnet, and ran with him down the lawn.
“There, Reginald,” said she, panting, “I think my darling was here this afternoon; yes, yes, he must; for he had a key of the door, and it is open.”
“All right,” said Reginald; “come into the field.”
He ran about like a dog hunting, and soon found marks among the cowslips.
“Somebody has been gathering a nosegay here to-day,” said he; “now, mamma, there's only two ways put of this field—let us go straight to that gate; that is the likeliest.”