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never seen her, for she had not for many years been friends with her

brother.

The letter which she had written to the doctor, announcing her

willingness to receive them, made the boys laugh, although it did not

hold out prospects of a very pleasant future. "I am, of course," she

said, "prepared to do my duty. No one can say that I have ever failed

in my duty. My poor brother quarreled with me. It was his duty to

apologize. He did not do so. Had it been my duty to apologize I should

have done so. As I was right, and he was wrong, it was clearly not my

duty. I shall now do my duty to my niece and nephews. Yet I may be

allowed to say that I regret much that they are not all nieces. I do

not like boys. They are always noisy, and not always clean. They do

not wipe their shoes, they are always breaking things, they go about

with all sorts of rubbish and dirt in their pockets, their hair is

always rough, they are fond of worrying cats, and other cruel games.

Altogether they are objectionable. Had my brother made up his mind to

leave his children in my charge, it was clearly his duty to have had

girls instead of boys. However, it is not because other people fail

in their duty that I should fail in mine. Therefore, let them come to

me this day fortnight. By that time I shall have got some strong and

suitable furniture in the room that my nephews will occupy, and shall

have time to make other arrangements. This letter will, if all goes

well, reach you, I believe, in three days after the date of posting,

and they will take the same time coming here. Assure them that I am

prepared to do my duty, and that I hope that they will make a serious

effort at doing theirs. Ask my nephews, upon the occasion of their

first arrival, to make as little noise as they can, because my cat,

Minnie, is very shy, and if she is scared at the first meeting,

she will take a very long time to get accustomed to them. I also

particularly beg that they do not, as they come up to the house, throw

stones at any of the pigeons who may be resting upon the roof, for the

slates were all set right a few weeks ago, and I am sure I do not wish

to have the slater here again; they were hanging about for ten days

the last time they came. I do not know that I have anything else to

say."

The boys received the reading of this singular epistle with shouts of

laughter.

"Poor aunt," Tom said. "What does she think of us that she can suppose

that, upon our very first arrival, we should come in like wild

Indians, throwing stones at her pigeons, and frightening her Minnie

into fits. Did you ever hear such an extraordinary idea, Doctor

Jarvis?"

"At any rate, boys," the doctor said, when the laughter had ceased,

"you may find your aunt a little peculiar, but she is evidently

determined to do her duty to you, and you must do yours to her, and

not play more pranks than you can help. As to you, Rhoda, you will

evidently be in high favor, and as you are fortunately a quiet little

lady, you will, I have no doubt, get on with her very well."

"I hope so," Rhoda said, smiling, "you see she means to be kind,

though she does write funny letters, and, at any rate, there are

Minnie and the pigeons; it sounds nice, you know. Do you know what

aunt's place is like, Dr. Jarvis, and how to get there from here."

"No, my dear, I never was in that part of England. It is close to

Marlborough that she lives, a very pretty country, I believe. There

is, of course, no way to go across from here. You must go up to London

by coach from here, and then to Marlborough by the western coach. I

will write to my brother James in town, where you stopped at night as

you came through, boys, and I know that he will take you all in for

the night, and see that you go off right in the morning."

"You're very kind, indeed, Doctor Jarvis. I do not know how to thank

you for all you have done for us," Tom said earnestly, and the others

cordially echoed the sentiment.

The day before starting the doctor had a long talk with the boys. He

pointed out to them that their future now depended upon themselves

alone. They must expect to find many unpleasantnesses in their way,

but they must take their little trials pleasantly, and make the best

of everything. "I have no fear as to Rhoda," their kind friend said.

"She has that happy, amiable, and quiet disposition that is sure to

adapt itself to all circumstances. I have no doubt she will become a

favorite with your aunt. Try to keep out of scrapes, boys. You know

you are rather fond of mischief, and your aunt will not be able to

understand it. If you get into any serious difficulty write to me, you

can rely upon always finding a friend in me."

The journey to London was no novelty to the boys, but Rhoda enjoyed it

immensely. Her place had been taken inside, but most of the journey

she rode outside with her brothers. She was greatly amazed at the

bustle and noise of London, and was quite confused at the shouting and

crowd at the place where the coach drew up, for two or three other

coaches had just arrived from other directions. Mr. Jarvis had sent

his man-servant to meet them, their luggage was sent direct to the

booking-office from which the coach started for Marlborough, and the

servant carried a small bag containing their night things. It was

evening when they got in, and Rhoda could scarcely keep her eyes open

long enough to have tea, for the coach had been two days and nights

upon the road. The next day they stayed in town, and Mrs. Jarvis took

them out to see the sights of London--the Tower and St. Paul's, and

Westminster Abbey, and the beasts at Exeter Change. The boys had twice

before spent a whole day in London, their father having, upon two

occasions, made his visits to town to fit in with their going up to

school, but to Rhoda it was all new, and very, very wonderful.

The next day the coach started early for Marlborough. It was to

take rather over twenty-four hours on the way. As before, Rhoda rode

outside with her brothers until the evening, but then, instead of

going inside, where there were five passengers already, she said, as

the night was so fine and warm, she would rather remain with them.

They were sitting behind the coachman, there were two male passengers

upon the same seat with them, and another in the box seat by the

coachman. The conversation turned, as in those days it was pretty sure

to turn, upon highwaymen. Several coaches had been lately stopped by

three highwaymen, who worked together, and were reported to be more

reckless than the generality of their sort. They had shot a coachman

who refused to stop, the week before on Hounslow Heath, they had

killed a guard on the great north road, and they had shot two

passengers who resisted, near Exeter.

Tom and Peter were greatly amused by observing that the passenger who

sat next to them, and who, at the commencement of the conversation,

showed a brace of heavy pistols with which he was provided, with much

boasting as to what he should do if the coach were attacked, when he

heard of the fate of the passengers who had resisted, became very

quiet indeed, and presently took an opportunity, when he thought that

he was not observed, of slipping his pistols under the tarpaulin

behind him.

"I hope those dreadful men won't stop our coach," Rhoda said.

"They won't hurt you if they do, Rhoda," Tom said assuringly. "I think

it would be rather a lark. I say, Peter," he went on in a whisper, "I

think we might astonish them with those pistols that coward next to

you has hid behind him."

"I should just think so," Peter said; "the bargee at Eton would be

nothing to it."

The hours went slowly on. Rhoda and the boys dozed uncomfortably

against each other and the baggage behind them, until they were

suddenly roused by a shout in the road beside them: "Stand for your

lives!"

The moon was up, and they could see that there were three horsemen.

One galloped to the horses' heads, and seized the rein of one of the

leaders, the others rode by the coach.

The first answer to the challenge was a discharge from the blunderbuss

of the guard, which brought one of the highwaymen from his horse.

The other, riding up to the side of the coach, fired at the guard, and

a loud cry told that the shot had taken effect. In another moment the

fellow was by the side of the coachman.

"Hold up!" he said, "or I will blow your brains out!"

The coachman did as he was ordered, and indeed the man at the leader's

head had almost succeeded in stopping them. The passenger next to the

boys had, at the first challenge, again seized his pistols, and the

boys thought that he was going to fire after all.

"Lie down at our feet, Rhoda, quick!" Tom said, "and don't move

till I tell you." The fate of the guard evidently frightened away

the short-lived courage of the passenger, for, as the coachman again

pulled up, he hastily thrust the pistols in behind him.

"Get down, every one of you," the highwayman shouted.

"Lie still, Rhoda," Tom whispered. "Now, Peter, get in underneath the

tarpaulin."

This was done as the passengers descended. The luggage was not so

heavily piled as usual, and the boys found plenty of room beneath the

tarpaulin.

"Now, Peter, you take one of these pistols and give me the other. Now

peep out. The moon is hidden, which is a good thing; now, look here,

you shall shoot that fellow standing down below, who is swearing at

the ladies inside for not getting out quicker. I'll take a shot at

that fellow standing in front of the horse's heads."

"Do you think you can hit him, Tom?"

"I have not the least idea, but I can try; and if you hit the other

one, the chances are he'll bolt, whether I hit him or not. Open the

tarpaulin at the side so as to see well, and rest the pistol upon

something. You must take a good shot, Peter, for if you miss him we

shall be in a mess."

"All right," Peter said, in a whisper, "I can almost touch him with

the pistol."

In loud and brutal tones the highwayman now began to order the

frightened ladies to give up their watches and rings, enforcing his

commands with terrible curses. When suddenly a pistol flashed out

just behind him, and he fell off his horse with a ball through his

shoulder.

Tom's shot, though equally well intended, was not so truly aimed.

The highwayman had dismounted, and was standing just in front of the

leaders, so that Tom had a fair view of him between them. The boys had

both occasionally fired their father's pistols, for, in those days,

each householder in the country always kept loaded pistols in his

room, but his skill was not sufficient to make sure of a man at that

distance. The bullet flew past at two feet to the left of his head.

But its effect was scarcely less startling than if it had actually hit

him, for, in its passage, it passed through the ear of the off leader.

The horse made a start at the sudden pain, and then dashed forward.

The rest of the team, already alarmed by the shot, followed her lead;

before the startled highwayman could get out of the way they were upon

him, in another instant he was under their heels, and the coach gave a

sudden lurch as it passed over his body.

"Lie still, Rhoda, a little longer; it's all right, but the horses

have run away," Tom exclaimed, as he scrambled forward, and caught

hold of the reins, which the coachman had tied to the rail of the seat

as he got down. "Catch hold of the reins, Peter, and help me pull."

Peter did so; but the united strength of the boys was wholly unequal

to arresting the headlong flight of the horses.

Fortunately the highwaymen had chosen a low bottom between two hills,

to arrest the coach, consequently the road was up a hill of moderate

steepness. The boys hoped that the horses would stop when they got to

the top; but they went on with redoubled speed.

"This is something like going it," Peter said.

"Isn't it, Peter? They know their way, and we ain't lively to meet

anything in the road. They will stop at their stable. At any rate,

it's no use trying to steer them. Here, Rhoda dear, get up; are you

very much frightened?"

Rhoda still lay quite still, and Peter, holding on with difficulty,

for the coach quite rocked with the speed at which they were going,

climbed over to her, and stooped, down. "Shall I help you up, Rhoda?"

"No, please, I would rather stop here till it's all over."

Fortunately the hill, up to the Tillage where they made the change,

was a steep one, and the horses broke into a trot before they reached

the top, and, in another minute drew up at the door of the inn.

The astonishment of the ostlers at seeing the horses covered with

lather, and coachbox tenanted only by two boys, behind whom a little

white face now peered out, was extreme, and they were unable to get

beyond an ejaculation of hallo! expressive of a depth of incredulous

astonishment impossible to be rendered by words.

"Look here," Tom said, with all the composure, and much of the

impudence, which then, as now, characterized the young Etonian, "don't

be staring like a pack of stuck pigs. You had better get the fresh

horses in, and drive back to the bottom, about four miles from here.

There has been regular row with some fellows, and I expect two or

three are killed. Now, just put up the ladder; I want to get my sister

down."

Almost mechanically the men put the ladder up to the coach, and the

boys and Rhoda got down.

"Do you say the coach has been attacked by highwaymen in Burnet

bottom?"

"I don't know anything about Burnet bottom," Tom said. "It was a

bottom about four miles off. There were three of them. The guard shot

one of them, and the others shot the guard. Then we were stopped by