"How's old Sam, and Bogle, and Sally?"
"Bless the boys!" cries Mary, at last getting in a word, "why you'll shake me to death. There, now do go away up to the housekeeper's room and get your suppers; you know I haven't time to talk—you'll find plenty more in the house, Now, Master East, do let these things alone—you're mixing up three new boys' things." And she rushed at East, who escaped round the open trunks holding up a prize.
"Hullo, look here, Tommy," shouted he, "here's fun!" and he brandished above his head some pretty little night-caps, beautifully made and marked, the work of loving fingers in some distant country home. The kind mother and sisters, who sewed that delicate stitching with aching hearts, little thought of the trouble they might be bringing on that young head for which they were meant. The little matron was wiser, and snatched the caps from East before he could look at the name on them.
"Now, Master East, I shall be very angry if you don't go," said she;" there's some capital cold beef and pickles upstairs, and I won't have you old boys in my room first night."
"Hurrah for the pickles! Come along, Tommy; come along, Smith. We shall find out who the young Count is, I'll be bound: I hope he'll sleep in my room. Mary's always vicious first week."
As the boys turned to leave the room, the matron touched Tom's arm, and said, " Master Brown, please stop a minute, I want to speak to you."
"Very well, Mary. I'll come in a minute. East; don't finish the pickles—"
"Oh, Master Brown," went on the little matron, when the rest had gone, "you're to have Gray's
