Mrs. Grant spoke very nicely to him; told him her little boy was very fond of him, and gave him a good character, and that she hoped he would be like him very soon.  She regretted that her own ill-health prevented her from giving him the indulgences he wanted, and that his father was too busy in providing for his welfare, to spare him any time.  She bade him prize his own more happy lot, and seemed to wish to make all possible excuses for the unkindness and undutifulness of her only son.

Fearing she would suffer from fatigue, Mrs. Grey took leave, promising to come again and give her little boy some other treat, if he improved his conduct.

Frank felt dull and disappointed just at first, but when he reached the lively, bustling scene, where stood the Crystal Palace, he soon forgot his short-lived troubles in astonishment and joy.

His Grandmama explained the use of every part, showed him the columns and their sockets, the girders and the ribs, the sheets of glass, all four feet long, the gutters and the water-pipes, the frames and ventilators, the bolts, the rivets, and the nuts; the central aisle and transept, each seventy-two feet wide, and more than sixty high, running along the length and breadth of the whole building; the galleries, running too along the sides, with the ingenious plans adopted to keep the whole well aired, and have it neither hot nor cold.  But as we hope to have a very full account prepared for the use of our young friends, by the time that they come home again at mid-summer—­when the whole will be completed, and filled with all its varied stores—­we will say no more at present on the subject, but reserve it for their study, just before they make their visit to the Crystal Palace, in their next holidays.

Frank and his Grandma were highly gratified; and having both expressed their thanks to the kind friend who had given them an order of admission, they were walking back towards the carriage, when a rush, a hubbub, and a frightful screaming, stopped them in their way.  Frank turned very pale, for he fancied that he knew the voice.  Alas! it was too true—­poor George had fallen down from off a scaffolding, and had put out his collarbone, and broken several ribs!

He had slily left his home, according to his threat at school; had asked his way at last to Kensington—­all weary, hot, and frightened—­and then had found, too late, that there was “no admission but on business” allowed.

Determined not to be defeated in his plans, he contrived to climb over the fencing at a private corner, by the help of some loose stones that lay beside it, caught his jacket on a nail, and tore it from the shoulder to the wrist, and looking all around in great alarm, beheld Frank Grey, a little way before him, walking with a lady and a gentleman, switching his little cane, and looking up delighted in their faces.