Mysterious Matters—A Happy Return, etcetera.  
The morning which followed the events narrated in the last chapter broke with unclouded splendour. It was the second of the four bright days which relieved the monotony of those six dreary weeks of rain.
 
Rejoicing in the glorious aspect of earth and sky, and in the fresh scents which the rain had called forth from every shrub and flower on the mountains, Mr Sudberry dashed about the White House—in and out—awaiting the assembling of the family to breakfast with great impatience. His coat-tails that morning proved the means of annihilating the sugar-basin—the last of the set which had graced the board on his arrival in the Highlands, and which had been left, for some time past, “blooming alone,” all its former companions having been shattered and gone long ago.
 
According to custom, Mr Sudberry went forward to the barometrical banjo, intending to tap it—not that he expected correct information now. No; he had found out its falsehood, and was prepared to smile at anything it should say. He opened his eyes, however, and exclaimed “Hallo!” with unwonted energy, on observing that, as if in sheer defiance of the weather, of truth, and of public opinion, its index aimed point-blank at “stormy!”
 
He speedily discovered that this tremendous falsehood was the result of a careful intestine examination, to which the instrument had been privately subjected by Master Jacky the evening before; in the course of which examination the curious boy, standing below the barometer, did, after much trouble, manage to cut the bulb which held the mercury. That volatile metal, being set free, at once leaped into its liberator’s bosom, and gushed down between his body and his clothes to the floor!
 
“I’ll thrash him to within an inch—”
 
Mr Sudberry clinched his teeth and his fists, and burst out of the room, (it was at this moment that the last of the set became “faded and gone”), and rushed towards the nursery. “No, I won’t,” he muttered, suddenly wheeling round on his heel and returning slowly to the parlour. “I’ll say nothing whatever about it.” And Mr Sudberry kept his word—Jacky never heard of it from that day to this!
 
Seizing the opportunity of the fine day, Mr Sudberry and George went out to fish. They fished with worm now, the streams being too much swollen for fly.
 
Meanwhile, Master Jacky sauntered down alone, in a most free-and-easy independent manner, to visit old Moggy, who was thought to be in a dying state—at least the doctor said so, and it was to be presumed that he was right.
 
Jacky had regularly constituted himself sick nurse to the old woman. Despite the entreaties of Flora and his sister, who feared that the disease might be infectious, he could not be prevailed on to remain away. His nursing did not, indeed, consist in doing much that was useful. He confined himself chiefly to playing on the river-banks near the hut, and to making occasional inquiries as to how the patient was getting on. Sometimes he also assisted Flora in holding sundry cups, and glasses, and medicine bottles, and when Flora was away he amused himself by playing practical jokes on the young woman who had volunteered to act as regular nurse to the old invalid.
 
Towards the afternoon, Jacky put his hands behind his back—he would have put them under his coat-tails if he had had any, for he was very old-mannish in his tendencies—and sauntered down the road towards the pass. At this same time it chanced that another little boy, more than twice Jacky’s age, was walking smartly along the same road towards the same pass from the other side of it. There were as yet several miles between the two boys, but the pace at which the elder walked bid fair to bring them face to face within an hour. The boy whom we now introduce was evidently a sailor. He wore blue trousers, a blue vest with little brass buttons, a blue jacket with bigger brass buttons, and a blue cap with a brass button on either side—each brass button, on coat, cap, and vest, having an anchor of, (apparently), burnished gold in the centre of it. He had clear blue eyes, brown curly hair, and an easy, offhand swagger, which last was the result of a sea-faring life and example; but he had a kindly and happy, rather than a boastful or self-satisfied, expression of face, as he bowled along with his hands in his pockets, kicking all the stones out of his way, and whistling furiously. Sometimes he burst into a song, and once or twice he laughed, smote his thigh, and cheered, but never for a moment did he slacken his pace, although he had walked many a mile that day.
 
Curiously enough, at this same time, a man was crouching behind some bushes in the centre of the pass towards which these two boys were approaching. This man had a pair of grey eyes which might have been beautiful had they not been small and ferocious-looking, and a nose which might have been aquiline had the bridge not been broken, and a head of shaggy hair which might have been elegant had it been combed, oiled, curled, and dyed, and a general appearance which might have been prepossessing had it not been that of a thorough blackguard. This lovely specimen of humanity sat down on a rock, and waited, and fidgeted; and the expression of his sweet face betrayed, from time to time, that he was impatient, and anything but easy in his mind.
 
As Jack walked very leisurely and stopped frequently to play, his progress towards the pass was slow, and as our waiting friend, whom the reader no doubt recognises as the gypsy, could not see far along the road in that direction, he was not aware of his approach. On the other hand, the sailor-boy came on fast, and the road was so open and straight in that direction that the gypsy saw him when he was far enough away to seem like a mere blue spot in the distance.
 
Presently he gained the entrance to the pass and began the ascent, which was gradual, with a riotous windlass song, in which the sentiments, yo! heave! and ho! were most frequently expressed. As he drew near, the gypsy might have been observed to grin a smile that would have been quite captivating but for some obstinate peculiarity about the muscles of the mouth which rendered it very repulsive.
 
Next moment the sailor-boy was abreast of him. The moment after that the bushes parted, and the gypsy confronted his victim, cutting a tremendous “heave!” short in the middle, and converting the “ho!” that should have followed, into a prolonged whistle of astonishment.
 
“Hah! my lad, you remember me, it seems?”
 
“Remember you? Yes, I just do!” answered the boy, in whose countenance every trace of boyishness was instantly swallowed up in an intense gaze of manly determination.
 
This mute but meaning glance had such a strange effect upon the gypsy that he actually cowered for a moment, and looked as if he were afraid he was going to “catch it.” However, he forced a laugh and said—
 
“Come, Billy, you needn’t look so cross. You know I was hard put to it w’en I sent you aboord the ‘Fair Nancy,’ and you shouldn’t ought to owe me a grudge for puttin’ ye in the way o’ makin’ yer fortin’.”
 
The man kept edging towards the boy as he spoke, but the boy observed this and kept edging away, regarding the man with compressed lips and dilated eyes, but not vouchsafing a word in reply.
 
“I say, Billy, it’s unkind, you know, to forget old times like this. I want to shake hands; and there’s my old woman up on the hill as wants to see you again.”
 
Suddenly the fierce look left the boy’s face, and was replaced by a wild, waggish expression.
 
“Oh! your old woman wants to see me, does she? And you want to shake hands, do you? Now look here, Growler; I see through you! You thought to catch a flat, and you’ll find you’ve caught a tartar; or, rather, that the tartar has caught you. But I’ve grown merciful since I went to sea,” (the lad tucked-up his wristbands at this point, as if he really meditated a hand-to-hand encounter with his huge antagonist). “I do remember old times, and I know how richly you deserve to be hanged; but I don’t want to mix up my home-coming, if I can help it, with dirty work. Now, I’ll tell you what—I’ll give you your choice o’ two courses. Either take yourself off and be out o’ hail of this part of the country within twelve hours, or walk with me to the nearest police station and give yourself up. There—I’ll give you exactly two minutes to think over it.”
 
The youthful salt here pulled out an enormous double-case silver watch with an air of perfect nonchalance, and awaited the result. For a few seconds the gypsy was overwhelmed by the lad’s coolness; then he burst into a gruff laugh and rushed at him. He might as well have run at a squirrel. The boy sprang to one side, crossed the road at a bound, and, still holding the watch, said—
 
“Half a minute gone!”
 
Again the man rushed at his small opponent with similar result, and a cool remark, that another half minute was gone. This so exasperated the gypsy, that he ran wildly after the boy for half a minute, but the latter was as active as a kitten, and could not be caught.
 
“Time’s up; two minutes and a quarter; so don’t say that I’m not merciful. Now, follow me to the constable.”
 
So saying, Billy, as the man had called him, turned his back towards the pass, and ran off at full speed towards the village. The gypsy followed him at once, feeling that his only chance lay in capturing the boy; but so artfully did Billy hang back and allow his pursuer to come close up, that he had almost succeeded in enticing him into the village, when the man became suddenly aware of his folly, and stopped. Billy stopped too.
 
“What! you’re not game to come on?”
 
The man shook his fist, and, turning his face towards the pass, ran back towards his booth in the hills, intending to take the boy’s first piece of advice, and quit that part of the country. But Billy had no idea of letting him off thus. He now became the pursuer. However fast the gypsy ran, the sailor-lad kept up with him. If the man halted, as he frequently did in a breathless condition, and tried to gain over his adversary, Billy also stopped, said he was in no hurry, thrust his hands into his jacket pockets, and began to whistle. Thus he kept him in view until they once more stood in the pass. Here the man sat down on a large stone, thoroughly exhausted. The boy sat down on another stone opposite to him, looking quite fresh and jolly. Five years of hearty devotion to a noble calling had prepared the muscles of the little sailor for that day’s exercise. The same number of years spent in debauchery and crime had not prepared the vagabond giant for that day’s work.
 
“What has brought you back?” said Growler, savagely.
 
“To see the old granny whom you stole me from,” replied the boy. “Also, to have the satisfaction of puttin’ you in limbo; although I did not expect to have this pleasure.”
 
“Ha! ha!” laughed Growler, sarcastically, “you’ll fail in both. It’s not so easy to put me in limbo as you think—and your grandmother is dyin’.”
 
“That’s false!” cried Billy, springing half way across the road and shaking his little fist at his enemy—“you know it is. The landlord of the ‘Blue Boar’ told me he saw her at church strong and well last Sunday.”
 
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