’Well, Mrs. King, I suppose you don’t need to be told that our friend Paul has spoken nothing but truth.  The chaplain sends me his baptismal registry, for which I asked.  Just seventeen he must be—­a foundling, picked up at about three weeks old, January 25th, 1836.  They fancy he was left by some tramping musicians, but never were able to trace them—­at least, so the chaplain hears from some of the people who remember it.  Being so stunted, and looking younger than he is, no farmer would take him from the House, and the school-master made him useful, so he was kept on till the grand exposure that he told us of.’

‘Ah!  Sir,’ said Mrs. King,’ I’m afraid that master was a bad man.  I only wonder the poor lad learnt no more harm from him!’

‘One trembles to think of the danger,’ said Mr. Cope; ’but you see there’s often a guard over those who don’t seek the temptation, and perhaps this poor fellow’s utter ignorance of anything beyond the Union walls helped him to let the mischief pass by his understanding, better than if he had had any experience of the world.’

‘I doubt if he’ll ever have that, Sir,’ said Mrs. King, her sensible face lighting up rather drolly; ’there’s Harold always laughing at him for being so innocent, and yet so clever at his book.’

‘So much the better for him,’ said Mr. Cope.  ’The Son of Sirach never said a wiser word than that “the knowledge of wickedness is not wisdom.”  Why, Mrs. King, what have I said? you look as if you had a great mind to laugh at me.’

‘I beg your pardon, Sir,’ said Mrs. King, much disconcerted at what seemed to her as if it might have been disrespect, though that was only Mr. Cope’s droll way of putting it, ‘I never meant—­’

‘Well, but what were you thinking of?’

’Why, Sir, I beg your pardon, but I was thinking it wouldn’t have been amiss if he had had sense enough to keep himself clean and tidy.’

‘I agree with you,’ said Mr. Cope, laughing, and seeing she used ‘innocent’ in a slightly different sense from what he did; ’but perhaps Union cleanliness was not inviting, and he’d not had you to bring him up to fresh cheeks like Harold’s.  Besides, I believe it was half depression and want of heart to exert himself, when there was no one to care for him; and he certainly had not been taught either self-respect, or to think cleanliness next to godliness.’

‘Poor lad—­no,’ said Mrs. King; ’nor I don’t think he’d do it again, and I trust he’ll never be so lost again.’

‘Lost, and found,’ said Mr. Cope gravely.  ’Another thing I was going to say was, that this irreverent economy of the Guardians, in allowing no lesson-books but the Bible, seems to have, after all, been blest to him in his knowledge of it, like an antidote to the evil the master poured in.’

‘Yes, Sir,’ said Mrs. King, ’just so; only he says, that though he liked it, because, poor lad, there was nothing else that seemed to him to speak kind or soft, he never knew how much it was meant for him, nor it didn’t seem to touch him home till he came to you, Sir.’