“Well”, said Brandon, with a half sigh, “I have come to bid you all goodbye; no one can tell when we may meet again.”

“Oh! no fear,” said Mrs. Phillips, “we will see you here again in a year or two.  Mr. Phillips is often grumbling about his affairs, but I know it just ends in nothing.”

“By the by, Emily,” whispered Brandon, “you promised if I was a good boy that you would give me a great treat.  You will never have another opportunity.”

“Oh! yes,” said Emily, “I recollect quite well—­come along with me,” and Brandon followed the child to the nursery.  Elsie was singing something to a tune that sounded like that of “Chevy Chase,” a great favourite with Brandon in his childhood—­but she caught the sound of footsteps at the door and stopped abruptly.

“This is our nursery,” said Emily; “mamma says it is far better than the old one at Wiriwilta, but I do not like it half so well.  I have brought Mr. Brandon here, Alice, to hear your songs and your stories, as I promised him the night you would not sing in the drawing-room when he asked you.”

“Go on, Miss Alice, I beg of you; do not let me interrupt you.  Indulge me for once—­that old air carries me back many years,” said Brandon.

“Oh, no,” said Alice; “I could not venture on a stanza before you.  You cannot imagine what doggerel I make to please the children.”

“It is not doggerel; it is beautiful,” said little Harriett; “it is the best song of all, and the newest—­the one that Alice has made about the fire, when we were such tiny babies; and how poor mamma was so weak and ill, and papa was away, and the flames were all around; and Peggy and Jim—­you recollect Jim, black Jim, Mr. Brandon—­and Mrs. Tuck—­Martha, you know—­were working so hard to save us; and then when Mr. Brandon came up on his horse, Cantab—­we told Alice his name was Cantab—­she knew all the rest of the story—­and rode so fast and got off in such a hurry, and fetched water and quenched the fire.  Oh!  Mr. Brandon, it is a lovely song.”

“And all made up after our talk of old times the other night; for I thought it was just the thing for a ballad, and Alice will do anything I ask her.  You see that we will make a hero of you, and we will sing this song in your praise when you are far away,” said Emily.

“Then I am not be forgotten,” said Brandon, speaking to Emily, but looking very hard at Elsie.  “I do not wish to be forgotten by any one here; but I do not care for being remembered as a hero, which I do not deserve to be—­but as a—­a friend.”

“Our friends here have been so few that we are not likely to forget any of them, and with Emily beside us we stand a good chance of hearing your name frequently,” said Elsie.

“And you made a song about me—­actually about me,” said Brandon, looking as if he wished the five young Phillipses out of the way.

“Oh!  Alice can make a song about anything,” said Constance; “she made one about my little kitten.”