“Never mind, little chap, it will all come back of itself some day. Don’t you worry your head over it; that will make matters worse instead of better. Ah! and here comes Mrs. Pritchard, looking for her lost lamb. She will wonder what has brought you here.”
Mrs. Pritchard’s face expressed a good deal of alarm and confusion as she appeared in the doorway, guided there by the sound of voices.
“Indeed, sir, but I’m truly sorry!” she exclaimed. “I had no idea the child had left the nurseries. I truly am most—”
“Never mind, never mind, Mrs. Pritchard,” answered the Squire, quietly. “Children will stray, and I do not expect you to alter your usual routine on his account. Take him away now; but if he is a good boy, you may dress him and send him down to dessert. He will be all the better for a little more change, and will have less time to think.”
Mrs. Pritchard looked deeply gratified, and thanked the Squire as if he had been conferring some personal favor upon herself.
“We have settled upon a name for him, Mrs. Pritchard,” continued the Squire. “He is to be Master Bertie, until we know any better. He will be wanting his tea now; you had better take him away.”
Bertie followed the housekeeper obediently, and the Squire was left alone to his own meditations, and as he turned to his papers he sighed once or twice.
“Poor little fellow!” he said; “poor little fellow! Well, I suppose it will all come right some day soon. Very odd turn of affairs altogether.”
Meantime Bertie was silently discussing his substantial nursery tea, whilst Mrs. Pritchard sat by, busy with her needle.
By and by the little boy spoke.