’No, I’m not running away!  I’m not at school!  I’m Maurice Kendal!  I’m going to my brother at Malta!’

‘He is the son of Mr. Kendal of Bayford,’ said Ulick to the station-master,’ his parents are from home, and there will be dreadful distress if he goes in this way.  Maurice, your sister has troubles enough already.’

‘I’ve my ticket, and can’t be stopped.’

But even as he spoke, the stout traveller picked him up by the collar, and dropped him like a puppy dog into Ulick’s arms, just as the train was getting into motion; and a head protruded from every window to see the truant, who was pommelling Ulick in a violent fury, and roaring, ‘Let me go; I will go to Gilbert!’

‘Behave like a man,’ said Ulick; ’don’t disgrace yourself in that way.’

The boy coloured, and choking with passion and disappointment, and straining against Ulick’s hold of his shoulder.

‘Indeed, sir,’ said the station-master, ’if we had recognised the young gentleman, we would have made more inquiries, but he asked so readily for his ticket, not seeming at a loss, and we have so many young travellers, that we thought of nothing amiss.  Will you have a fly, sir?’

‘I’m not going home,’ said the boy, undaunted.

’You must submit, Maurice.  You do not wish to make poor Sophy miserable.’

‘I must go to Malta,’ the boy persisted.  ’Gilbert says it would make him well to see me.  I know my way; I saw it in the map, and I’ve a roll, and the end of a cold tongue, and a clean shirt, and my own sovereign, and four shillings, and a half-crown, and a half-penny in my pocket; and I’m going!’

’But, Maurice, this gentleman will tell you that your whole sovereign would not carry you a quarter of the way to Malta.’

The station-master gave so formidable a description of the impossibilities of the route, that the hardy little fellow’s look of decision relaxed into dejection, his muscles lost their tension, and he struggled hard with his tears.

He followed Ulick to the carriage, and hid his face in a corner, while orders were given to stop at the post-office in case there were fresh letters.  There was one for Miss Kendal, in Mr. Ferrars’ writing, and with black borders.  Ulick felt too surely what it must be, and hardly could bear to address Maurice, who had shrunk from him with some remains of passion, but hearing suppressed sobs, he put his hand on him and said, ‘My poor little man.’

‘Get away,’ said Maurice, shaking him off.  ’Why did you come and bother?’

’I came because it would have almost killed your sister and mother for you to be lost.  If you had seen Sophy’s face, Maurice!’

’I don’t care.  Now I shall never see Gilbert again, and he did want me so!’ Maurice hid his face, and his frame shook with sobs.

‘Yes,’ said Ulick, ’every one knew he wanted you; but if it had been possible for you to go, your mamma would have taken you.  If your uncle had to take care of her how could you go alone?’