might find friends of a different stamp.

She rose and silently unlocked a great oaken press, clamped with iron, a place where the Squire kept all his valuable papers, and some of the heirlooms which had come down to him from his forefathers. Tom looked on with curious eyes. He had always experienced, from childhood upwards, a certain sense of awe when that press was unlocked and thrown open. He now observed his mother's actions with great curiosity.

"Come, Tom, and lift down that box, for it is heavy," she said; and Tom came forward and carefully lifted down a small iron-bound chest, which, for its size, was in truth remarkably heavy. This box was placed upon the table, whilst the mother locked up the safe once more.

Then she selected a small key from a number in a bag at her girdle, and offered it to her son.

"There, Tom, the box and its contents are yours. You will find within five hundred golden pieces--guineas every one of them, bright and new from the mint. Your father saved them up for you for many long years, in case it should ever become needful that you should leave home to see the world. Always it was his hope that you would remain at home to be his comfort and stay; but if that could not be, then would he wish to send forth his only son in such a manner as beseemed his condition in life."

Tom's eyes sparkled. A flush mounted to his cheek, and his hand shook a little as he put the key into the lock.

It was all true. There lay, in neat rolls, more money than he had ever seen in all his life--a fortune for a prince, as it seemed to him in his youthful inexperience. The admonitions and counsel of his mother fell on deaf ears. Tom's busy brain was planning a thousand ways in which his wealth might be expended. He would go forth. He would see the world. He would win fame and fortune. He would never return to Gablehurst until he brought with him a name which should cause the ears of those who knew him to tingle by reason of the fame he had won!

"Nay, but boast not of the future, my son," pleaded the mother, with a note of anxiety in her voice; "and be not over confident. The times are perilous, and you are but an untried youth. Boasting is not well."

But Tom could not listen. He laughingly repeated his boast, and was off to the stables forthwith, to pick for himself the best horses for his ride to London. For, of course, he must first go there, to fit himself out for his journey beyond seas, and find out where the army of the Duke was at present to be found.

Vague rumours of the great victory had penetrated to the wilds of Essex; but where Blenheim was, and what the victory was all about, the rustics knew as little as "Old Kaspar" of the immortal ballad of later days. The squires were little less vague in their ideas as to the scope and purpose of the war. It was to abase the power of France--so much they knew, and was unpopular with the Tories of Jacobite leanings, for the reason that the French king was sheltering the dethroned monarch of the Stuart line. But then the great Duke who was winning all these victories was said to be a stanch Tory himself; so that it was all rather confusing, and Tom was just as ignorant and ill-informed on all these topics as the hinds who tilled his fields. He had never cared to inform himself of what was passing in the world, and the newspapers had always seemed to him very dull reading.

Now, however, he wished he knew a little more; but he told himself that he should quickly pick up everything in London. His heart beat at the thought of seeing that wonderful city; and although he carelessly promised his mother not to linger there long, he was by no means sure that he would not make a good stay, and learn the fashions of the gay world before he crossed the sea.

He was quite of the opinion that, clad in a new suit of fashionable make, he could ruffle it with the best of the young bloods about town. He was now all in a fever to be off. He selected for his attendant a young groom, with whom he had long been more intimate than his father approved. His mother in vain besought him to take faithful old John, or at least Peter, whom they had known from boyhood; but Tom would have nobody but young Robin, and declared that he and Robin, mounted upon Wildfire and Wildgoose--two of the best and fleetest horses ever reared in the meadows round Gablehurst--could distance any highwaymen who might try to stop them, or shoot them down if they could not shake them off.

For these were days when travelling was none too safe, and the transit of the heavy bag of golden guineas made an additional source of danger. For there were highway robbers and footpads, who seemed to have a seventh sense for the scenting of gold. It was probable that they had spies and confederates in all sorts of places, and that they were warned beforehand when travellers rode with money and valuables upon their persons.

It was, therefore, small wonder that mother and sister looked with somewhat sinking hearts at the handsome young fellow, in his workman-like, if rustic, riding dress, as he sat upon his horse at the hall door, giving a last look round him at the little crowd gathered to see him ride away.

"You will write and tell us of your safe arrival in London; and be very careful how you cross Epping Forest," said the mother.

And young Tom answered gaily,--"Oh, never fear for me. Wildfire and I can ride through and ride down anything! I will send a letter from London, but after that you must not look for anything but silence. When men cross the seas, and live amid battles and marches, letters can scarce be written, still less safely carried."

He stooped from his saddle, and once more kissed both mother and sister. Then the servants and tenants crowded round, full of good wishes for a prosperous journey and a happy return; and Tom answered them with gay words of promise. He would come back again, covered with fame and glory. They would hear of his doings before they saw him again, and when he came back he would "take toll again of all his old playmates;" and so saying, he looked laughingly round upon the blushing girls, who had paid Tom Tufton's toll many a time, between jest and earnest, by the lych gate.

They all admired and liked the handsome lad, even though his ways were more wild and reckless than the elders could approve. But all declared that it would do him all the good in the world to go out and see life in other places. It would cool his hot blood, and teach him wisdom; and, after all, lads always would be lads till manhood's cares and lessons had tamed them.

So Tom rode away in high spirits, Robin following on Wildgoose, with the saddlebags strapped in front of him. They did not take much with them, as Tom meant to equip himself in town, and was wearing his finest home-made suit upon the journey. He had his precious guineas carefully secured about his person. They were heavy, it is true, but he liked to feel the weight of them, and to know that they were safe.

For many miles he was constantly receiving hails from friends and comrades; sometimes a band of young men would ride with him for a few miles, and then, wishing him good luck, return home again. At some houses which he passed, bright eyes would look out from the windows, and kerchiefs would be waved in greeting and farewell.

Tom may perhaps be forgiven for regarding himself somewhat in the light of a young prince riding forth to see the world. Everything in his past life had combined to give him a good opinion of himself, and make him fancy himself irresistible alike with men and women. For he was undoubtedly the strongest and handsomest youth in his own small world.

He sang and whistled as he rode along in the crisp morning air. October had dashed the trees with vivid tints of red and gold. A crisp touch of frost was in the air, and though the noonday sun was bright and hot, there were indications of approaching winter plain to be seen.

They baited their horses for an hour at a little inn where Tom was slightly known; but