A Crooked Path | Page 2

a noisy declaration
from the "fare" that he should lose his train, and the scuffle was over.
The little man, held firmly by the shoulder, was marched back to his
young guardian.
"Thank you!--oh, thank you a thousand times! You have saved his
life!" she exclaimed, fervently, in unsteady tones. Then to the child:
"How could you break your promise to stay by me, Cecil? You would
have been killed but for this gentleman!"
"I wanted to catch the 'omlibus' for you, auntie!" he cried, with an
irrepressible sob, though he gallantly tried to hold back his tears.
"Hope the little fellow is none the worse of his fright," said the Colonel,
advancing and raising his hat. "Can I be of any use?--can I call a cab?"
"No, thank you; I will take an omnibus and get home as soon as I can.
Cecil will soon forget his fright, I fear--"
"Sooner than you will," remarked Bertie. "There is a Royal Oak
omnibus. Will that do?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Come along, then, my young man; I will not let you go."
Bertie put the trio into the vehicle, and the lookers-on saw that he
shook hands with "auntie" as the conductor jumped on his perch and
they rolled on.
"Gad! there's a chance for you!" cried the Colonel as Bertie joined him.
"An uncommon fine girl, by George! What a coloring! and a splendid

pair of black eyes!"
"I suspect extreme fright did a good deal for both, poor girl. Her eyes
are brown, not black."
"Brown! Nonsense! Didn't you think they were black?"
"I did not observe them," returned the grave personage he addressed,
indifferently. "The boy had a narrow escape. I must say good morning,"
he added.
"Stop a bit," cried the Colonel. "I must see you again before you leave
town. Dine with me to-morrow at the Junior. And, Bertie--"
"Thanks, no, I am engaged." He said good-by and walked on.
"Queer fellow that," said the Colonel, looking after him. "He got into
some money troubles in India, left the army, and got converted. Now
he is not exactly a Salvation soldier, but something of the kind. He'll be
at you one of the days for a subscription to convert the crossing
sweepers or some such undertaking. But you'll dine with me to-morrow.
I'll tell you all the Clayshire gossip."
"Thank you, I shall be very happy."
"Then good-by for the present, I am engaged to lunch to meet one of
the prettiest little widows you ever saw in your life, but she has no cash.
Here, hansom," calling to the driver of a cab which was passing slowly.
"I am a little late." He jumped in and drove off.
His friend, with a slight grave smile, continued his walk to the
Alexandria Hotel, the portals of which received him.
Meantime the hero of the cab incident sat very demurely by his young
aunt, as the omnibus rolled slowly up Park Lane, occasionally stealing
inquisitive glances at her face.
"You have been a very naughty boy, Cecil!" she exclaimed as her eyes
met his. "How could I have gone home to mamma if I had been obliged

to leave you behind?"
"But you needn't, you know; you could have tied me up in a bundle and
taken me back. Mamma would have known it wasn't your fault."
"I am not so sure of that, and you have made poor Charlie
cry,"--drawing the younger boy to her side.
"Charlie is just a baby," contemptuously.
"He is a better boy than you are." Silence.
"Auntie, do you think the gentleman who pulled me back was the old
gentleman's son?"
"No, I do not think he was."
"Why don't you, auntie?"
"I can hardly say why."
"I have seen that gentleman--the old gentleman--in Kensington
Gardens," said little Charlie, nestling up to his aunt. "He spoke to
mammy the day she took me to feed the ducks."
"I think that is only a fancy, dear."
"No; I am quite sure."
"Oh, you are always fancying things; you are a silly," cried Cecil, now
quite recovered, and turning to kneel upon the seat that he might look
out, thereby rubbing his feet on the very best "afternoon" dress of a
severely respectable female, whose rubicund face expressed "drat the
boy!" as strongly as a face could.
The rest of the journey was accomplished after the usual style of such
travels when the aunt and nephews went out together. Cecil was
constantly rebuked and made to sit down, and as constantly resumed
his favorite position; so that he ultimately reached home with

beautifully clean shoes, having wiped "the dust off his feet" effectually
on the garments of his fellow-passengers, while his little brother
nestled to his auntie's side and gazed observantly on his
fellow-travellers, arriving at