“Eh!  The translation may be correct, but ’tis scarce the most complimentary.  I wonder now if you, like me, were born on a Wednesday.  ‘Wednesday’s child has far to go.’”

“No.  I was born on a Sunday, and if to see goblins and oafs—­”

“Nay, I read it, ‘Sunday’s child is full of grace.’”

Peregrine’s mouth twitched ironically, but his uncle continued, “Look you, my boy, what say you to fulfilling the augury of your name with me.  His Majesty has ordered me off again to represent the British name to the Elector of Brandenburg, and I have a mind to carry you with me.  What do you say?”

If any one expected Peregrine to be overjoyed his demeanour was disappointing.  He shuffled with his feet, and after two or three “Ehs?” from his uncle, he mumbled, “I don’t care,” and then shrank together, as one prepared for the stripe with the riding-whip which such a rude answer merited:  but his uncle had, as a diplomate, learnt a good deal of patience, and he said, “Ha! don’t care to leave home and brothers.  Eh?”

Peregrine’s chin went down, and there was no answer; his hair dropped over his heavy brow.

“See, boy, this is no jest,” said his uncle.  “You are too big to be told that ‘I’ll put you into my pocket and carry you off.’  I am in earnest.”

Peregrine looked up, and with one sudden flash surveyed his uncle.  His lips trembled, but he did not speak.

“It is sudden,” said the knight to the other two.  “See, boy, I am not about to take you away with me now.  In a week or ten days’ time I start for London; and there we will fit you out for Konigsberg or Berlin, and I trust we shall make a man of you, and a good man.  Your tutor tells me you have excellent parts, and I mean that you shall do me credit.”

Dr. Woodford could not help telling the lad that he ought to thank his uncle, whereat he scowled; but Sir Peregrine said, “He is not ready for that yet.  Wait till he feels he has something to thank me for.”

So Peregrine was dismissed, and his friends exclaimed with some wonder and annoyance that the boy who had been willing to be decapitated to put an end to his wretchedness, should be so reluctant to accept such an offer, but Sir Peregrine only laughed, and said—­

“The lad has pith in him!  I like him better than if he came like a spaniel to my foot.  But I will say no more till I fully have my brother’s consent.  No one knows what crooks there may be in folks’ minds.”

He took his leave, and presently Mrs. Woodford had a fresh surprise.  She found this strange boy lying flat on the grass, sobbing as if his heart would break, and when she tried to soothe and comfort him it was very hard to get a word from him; but at last, as she asked, “And does it grieve you so much to leave home?” the answer was—­

“No, no! not home!”

“What is it, then?  What are you sorry to leave?”