wanted to see what Marten was doing in the very odd attitude he had taken, so he crept noiselessly on, his head turned somewhat sideways to Reuben, and his hand held up threateningly to the child, for he saw he had been recognised, and he was afraid of some hasty word, which would cause Marten to start up, and then he feared he should not surprise his friend.  Edward was able to get quite close to Marten, and even to touch him before Marten was aware of his presence; and he stepped up so quietly, that the doves were so little frightened, that they hardly stopped a moment from picking up the crumbs.

“Why Marten, old fellow, what are you doing here?” asked Edward.  “Whose doves are those, I say? are they your mother’s? have you let them loose—­Eh?” Edward spoke softly, but not so softly that he did not cause Marten to start at the unexpected sound of his voice; still, as the birds were at some little distance, and were accustomed to the human voice, they scarcely were alarmed, and hardly moved a step or two away from the crumbs scattered for them, and Marten recovering himself quickly, said—­“Oh!  Edward, do help me to catch these doves:  they have escaped from their aviary, and my mother will be so vexed if they fly away.”

“To be sure I will,” replied Edward; “but my boy, who is in the habit of feeding them, for that person would best know how to catch them I should say.”

“My mother feeds them herself chiefly,” said Marten, “and Reuben sometimes attends to them when she is engaged.”

“Well, set Reuben to decoy them now, for I am in a hurry and have got something to say to you as quickly as possible, and it is very important.  Anyhow, the child can watch them whilst you are attending to me.”

So Reuben was called from his station at the tree, and Marten gave him directions what he was to do; and the now little important one lay down on the grass, as Marten had done before him; and as might have been expected, the doves, accustomed to his baby voice and small figure, soon drew nearer and nearer to him, so that when the conference was over between the two elder boys, Reuben was able proudly to shew not one, but both doves, so wrapped up in his pinafore, that though they fluttered about a little, they were quite secure.  “Come here a step or two from the child,” said Edward, “and don’t think of those troublesome birds just now, but tell me at once, can you come and pay me a visit for a couple of days? my cousins William Roscoe and Jane and Mary are expected at our house to night on their way to London.  You know William Roscoe, Marten, and what a fine fellow he is and I have asked my father and mother, and they have allowed me to get as many young ones together as the short time would allow, and we are to have splendid fun.  Won’t you come, Marten?  I promise you a glorious time of it, if you will but come.”

[Illustration]

“My father is from home,” replied Marten thoughtfully, “and so is my mother, but I don’t think that matters, Edward:  they have never refused my visiting you, and I do not think they would now.  Indeed, I am sure they would not, if they were at home, but what am I to do with Reuben?  I have taken charge of Reuben whilst mamma is away, and what can I do about him?”