Everything had gone safely till after leaving this village. Some miles
beyond, they had been attacked by highwaymen and robbed. The servants
had either been taken prisoners or fled. The thieves had driven off
with the coach-and-four, and the poor little boy had crawled back to
the village.
Margary and her mother did all they could to comfort him. They
prepared some hot broth for him, and opened a bottle of cowslip wine.
Margary's mother gave him some clean clothes, which had belonged to
her son who had died. The little gentleman looked funny in the little
rustic's blue smock, but he was very comfortable. They fed the forlorn
little dog too, and washed him till his white hair looked fluffy and
silky again.
When the London mail stopped in the village, the next day, they sent a
message to Lord Lindsay, and in a week's time, he came after his son.
He was a very grand gentleman; his dress was all velvet and satin, and
blazing with jewels. How the villagers stared. They had flatly refused
to believe that this last little stranger was the first one, and had
made great fun of Margary and her mother for being so credulous.
But they had not minded. They had given their guest a little pallet
stuffed with down, and a pillow stuffed with rose-leaves to sleep on,
and fed him with the best they had. His father, in his gratitude,
offered Margary's mother rich rewards; but she would take nothing.
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