“I cannot believe it,” exclaimed the Major. “’Tis true, as I now remember, I once came on a couple of beldames, my wife’s nurse and another, who has since been ducked for witchcraft, and found them about to flog the babe with nettles, and lay him in the thorn hedge because he was a sickly child, whom, forsooth, they took to be a changeling; but I forbade the profane folly to be ever again mentioned in my household, nor did I ever hear thereof again.”

“There are a good many more things mentioned in a household, brother, than the master is wont to hear of,” remarked Sir Peregrine.

Dr. Woodford then begged as a personal favour for an individual examination of the family and servants on their opinion.  The master was reluctant thus, as he expressed it, to go a-fooling, but his brother backed the Doctor up, and further prevented a general assembly to put one another to shame, but insisted on the witnesses being called in one by one.  Oliver, the first summoned, was beginning to be somewhat less overawed by his father than in his earlier boyhood.  To the inquiry what he thought of his brother Peregrine, he made a tentative sort of reply, that he was a strange fellow, who never could keep out of disgrace.

“That is not the question,” said his father.  “I am almost ashamed to speak it!  Do you—­nay, have you ever supposed him to be a—­” he really could not bring out the word.

“A changeling, sir?” returned Oliver.  “I do not believe so now, knowing that it is impossible, but as a child I always did.”

“Who durst possess you with so foolish and profane a falsehood?”

“Every one, sir.  I cannot recollect the time when I did not as entirely deem Peregrine a changeling elf as that Robin was my own brother.  He believes so himself.”

“You have never striven to disabuse him.”

“Indeed, sir, he would scarce have listened to me had I done go; besides, to tell the truth, it has only been of late, since I have been older, and have studied more, that I have come to perceive the folly of it.”

Major Oakshott groaned, and bade him call Robert without saying wherefore.  The little fellow came in, somewhat frightened, and when asked the question that had been put to his elder, his face lighted up, and he exclaimed, “Oh, have they brought him back again?”

“Whom?”

“Our real brother, sir, who was carried off to fairyland!”

“Who told you so, Robert?”

He looked puzzled, and said, “Sir, they all know it.  Molly Owens, that was his foster-mother, saw the fairies bear him off on a broomstick up the chimney.”

“Robert, no lying!”

The boy was only restrained from tears by fear of his father, and just managed to say, “’Tis what they all say, and Perry knows.”

“Knows!” muttered Major Oakshott in despair, but the uncle, drawing Robin towards him, extracted that Perry had been seen flying out of the loft window, when he had been locked up—­Robin had never seen it himself, but the maids had often done so.  Moreover, there was proof positive, in the mark on Oliver’s head, where he had nearly killed himself by tumbling downstairs, being lured by the fairies while they stole away the babe.