The truth was, Robert to his great discomfiture, was aware that Charles’s manly and courageous act of saving the dog had been witnessed by Helen, though his brother knew it not until told by Leonard Hust.  This had aggravated Robert so much that he had hastened home, and fabricating a story of Charles having thrown the dog into the pond, and wet himself completely, preparing his parents for a rough reception of his brother when he should return, and hence the treatment he received.  Leonard made his young master change his clothes, and after making him comfortable, left him to amuse himself in the open park with his ball, where the light-hearted Charles was soon thoughtlessly happy, and forgetful of the unkindness of Robert and the injustice of his parents.  So light are the cares and mishaps of youth, so easily forgotten are its hardships, either seeming or real.  Happy childhood!

Whether little cousin Helen had been on the watch for Charley, or whether she was there by accident, it matters not, suffice it to say that the two soon met in their headlong career of fun and frolic, and two more joyous or merry spirits never met on the soft green sward than these.  Now they tire of the play at ball and sit down together close by the brink of the clear, deep pond, next the rich flower beds that shed their grateful fragrance around the spot.  Cousin Helen, still panting from the exertion of the play, looked thoughtfully into the almost transparent water, and involuntarily heaved a sigh that did not escape her companion’s notice.

“Art sick, cousin Helen?” asked Charles, quickly.

“Nay, not I,” said the pleasant-voiced child, “not I, Charley.”

“But you sighed as though you were very tired or in pain,” he continued.

“Did I?” said the child, thoughtfully; “well, I believe I did.”

“And what for, cousin Helen?” said Charles, tenderly, parting her natural ringlets back from her beautiful and radiant face—­doubly radiant now as she looked up into his, so confidingly and so affectionately.

“I was thinking,” she said, ingenuously, “how cruel Robert was to your mother’s pet.  I don’t see how he could do such a thing, do you, Charley?”

“Robert is quick-tempered,” said his brother, “and perhaps regrets it now.  I guess the dog bit him, or something of that sort.”

He was too generous, too manly, to complain of Robert’s cruel treatment of him, or to mention the unkindness he had experienced from his parents.  But he had not forgotten these occurrences, and his lip once more quivered with emotion, and his clear, handsome eyes were suffused with tears.  Quick as thought his little companion divined with womanly instinct the cause, for she was not ignorant of the state of affairs, young as she was, that existed at Bramble Park.  Drawing nearer to his side, she threw one arm tenderly and with childish abandon over his neck, and with the other brushed away the gathering tears, until Charles smiled again and leaned over and kissed her sweet little lips as a brother might have done!  And then together they plucked a beautiful bouquet, and busied themselves in arranging it and classifying the various plants by their botanical names, for both children were well versed in this delightful study, young as they were.