fate. I don't deserve you should be so good; but I sha'n't mind half so much if you love me all the same, and try to get me out."

"Of course I should never rest a moment whilst you were in prison. Perhaps I shall disguise myself and come as a warder, and get charge of youbut I suppose I should have to grow up first, and that would take too long. But I might be errandboy to one of the bakers or people who supplied the prison, and get in that way. I might be sent to measure you for your chains, you know, and then we could arrange things nicely. But don't be afraid; there are lots of ways of escaping, and I'll read them all up before I come."

In spite of the absorbing interest of the subject, Curly was growing sleepy. He had worked too hard for sleep to be driven away, even though this might be the very last night of liberty.

"I think I like the beetle best," he answered drowsily. "Don't forget to put the wax on his nose to make him climb straight. I shall be looking out for him. Good-night, Bunny dear. I'm so much obliged to you for thinking about it all. I'm not nearly so unhappy about it now."

And in effect Curly was sleeping soundly in another minute, though Bunny lay broad awake for a full half-hour longer, pondering the story his brother had told him, and wondering what would be

the result of the confession to be made the next

day.

Truth to tell, the little fellow felt a great respect and admiration for his younger brother. He did not feel certain that he should have had the courage to speak out, knowing the penalty of such an act; but he could admire the spirit which prompted the confession, and he resolved, if he could do nothing to avert the fate of his comrade and darling, either to share his fate or rescue him from it as quickly as might be.

CHAPTER VIII

THE morning following the fire was a busy one for the mistress of the house, as may well be guessed; but not so busy as to prevent her attendance at the chapel first thing after breakfast. And, rather to her surprise, both the children were in their accustomed seats, though she had given instructions to the servants that they were not to be disturbed, as they had been up half the previous night, and must be feeling very tired after their exertions.

She was, however, too busy to notice that the boys did not follow her out of the chapel when the service was over, but continued to kneel on in their places, and it was Mr. Dalrymple the curate, who had that day taken the service, who observed the two little kneeling figures as he passed out of the tiny vestry on his way out.

Mr. Dalrymple knew the children quite well by that time, and was on friendly terms with them and with their big brother; but he had not seen indications of any great seriousness in either of them so far, and therefore he was a little surprised at their

attitude that morning. Moreover, he was a little puzzled by the absence of Curly's flowing locks, and as he had heard that the children had distinguished themselves somewhat the previous night, he thought he would wait and have a chat with them by-and-by, and hear what they had to say about it all.

But as he stood waiting for them to come out, watching them from the position he had taken up in the doorway, he felt certain by the heaving of Bunny's shoulders that he was crying bitterly, and presently Curly lifted his face and said quite audibly, "Don't cry so, Bunny. If you do, you'll make me

cry too, and I do so want to be brave.

If we cry,

it will make us seem like girls, and it won't do any good."

And at those words the curate became aware that there was something troubling the little boys; and coming forward, he laid a kindly hand on Curly's head.

"Is anything the matter, my little man?" he asked in the low tones suitable to such a spot. "Is something troubling you?"

"I'm going to prison to-day," answered Curly seriously but steadily. "I'm just going to give myself up to justice, and I don't know if I shall ever see anybody I care for again, because I think perhaps they may hang me; and we stayed to say our last prayers together here. I feel better now

because I've asked God to take care of me even in prison, and I think He will. It's Bunny who cries about it. I don't mean to cry if I can help it. I want to be brave. I feel happier than I did when I was telling a lie about it."

Mr. Dalrymple did not smile, for he saw that it was all very serious and real to the children.

"I am glad you brought your trouble here," he said. "You could not have taken it to a better place. But now will you come out with me and tell me all about it? Perhaps I might be able to help you over the danger. At any rate, we can see what can be done."

Bunny looked up with eager gratitude, and they both rose and followed their friend out into the little quiet cloister-walk outside; and when they were all seated in the embrasure of one of the windows he said,

"That's what I say. I feel sure Granny, or Phyl, or Tor would help us, only Curly says it would be misprision of treason to hide him or keep him safe, and we won't have anybody got into trouble for him, he says."

Mr. Dalrymple could not restrain a smile, though he laid his hand approvingly on the shorn head of the younger boy, over which the short curls were beginning to cluster in little close rings. The likeness between him and Tor was coming out very strongly now.