With thoughts so joyous and uplifted, Carol's feet scarcely seemed to touch the springy turf of the park as he returned to the Manor. The uplifting joy, unlike anything that earth can give, which comes from the consciousness that work done for, and in the Master's name, is accepted of him, was his; the promised signs following.

He did not see Mrs. Mandeville until she paid her usual visit to his bedroom.

His young face was radiant with joy and happiness. "Auntie," he said, "Mr. Higgs is beginning to understand; and he is losing his rheumatism."

Mrs. Mandeville smiled. There was so much love and tenderness in her smile the incredulity was not apparent. She put a loving arm around him, drawing the boy closer to her.

"Is that what you have been thinking to-night, dear?"

"Not altogether, Auntie. I have been thinking of what it means by the words, 'The mind that was in Christ.' That was what I was reading when I came to bed. If we are to have that Mind, we should understand what it is. But, Auntie, I can't get any farther than love: the mind that was in Christ was love. God is Love, and Jesus said, 'I and my Father are one.' So, Auntie, when our hearts are filled with love for the poor and afflicted and sorrowing, it is the Christ mind that comes to us. Because Jesus loved all who came to him, he was able to heal them. He said, 'I can of myself do nothing, it is the Father that worketh in me. He doeth the works.' Jesus was a perfect mirror, reflecting the love which is God. That is why he said, 'They that have seen me have seen my Father also.' Cousin Alicia explained this once to me, but I did not quite understand it at the time. I see so clearly now. When we reflect love as Jesus did, we shall be able to do the works that he did. I often wonder, Auntie, why Uncle Raymond and all the clergy who preach the Gospel don't help people when they are ill. It is not being obedient, is it?"

Mrs. Mandeville's face was grave.

"Ought I not to question this, Auntie?"

"Perhaps it would be better not, dear, until you are older. I do not understand myself. It is a subject I never seriously considered until you came to us. Now I think I must say good-night, my little lie-awake."

"I always fall asleep soon after I have said 'good-night' to you, Auntie."

"That is right, darling. I do enjoy our little talks; they are very sweet and helpful to me, Carol."

Then, after a long, loving embrace, she left him, a grave, thoughtful, but happy expression on her face.

The following Saturday morning after breakfast the three little girls told Carol, with delight, that they were going to the home farm in the afternoon, and begged him to go with them. Carol promised. He never refused to go anywhere or to do anything when Rosebud asked him. It was different with Percy and Frank. They were always too busy.

Carol knew how great a delight a visit to the farm was to the little girls, where each had a special pet of her own which the farmer's wife kindly took care of for them. Carol had visited the farm once before, and was almost as interested as the little girls in the animals and poultry yard. The schoolroom children had grown out of the interest they once had in visiting the farm.

Saturday being a school holiday, the boys were at home all day. After lunch Percy said:

"I say, Carol, some fellows are coming this afternoon; we are going to have a game at rounders. You can manage that. Will you come?"

Carol was never asked to join in a game at cricket or football, as his uncle and aunt feared it would not be good for him. "I am sorry, Percy; I cannot. I promised Rosebud and Sylvia to go with them to the farm this afternoon."

Percy turned impatiently away. He was annoyed. Carol caught the muttered words: "Milk-sop prefers a walk with the babies."

He was not versed in school-boy slang, but naturally felt it was an opprobrious epithet applied to himself. A crimson flush rose to his face. On the way to the farm, he asked Jane, the second nurse, who accompanied them:

"Can you tell me what milk-sop means, Jane?"

"Well, Master Carol, it's what school-boys call one another, sometimes. But it's not a nice word. I suppose it means something of a coward."

Carol fell behind. The crimson flush returned and dyed his cheeks again. "Percy did not mean it. He spoke without thinking. He forgot I am a soldier's son. I am not angry. I will not let you in!"

"Were you speaking, Master Carol?" Jane asked.

"I was only telling Mrs. Anger and Mr. Anger, and a lot of little Angers, there is no room for them in my mansion. Love is there, and cannot be driven away."

"You do say such funny things, Master Carol," Jane remarked.

"But there is nothing funny in that, Jane. You see our mind is our mansion, and if we keep it filled with loving thoughts, angry thoughts cannot creep in. Some angry thoughts were just trying to force their way in, and I had to tell them there was no room."

Still Jane smiled, but she, as everyone else at the Manor, loved the gentle boy, who had what seemed to them such strange thoughts.

A messenger always appeared to go in advance and tell the farmer's wife when the little ladies might be expected. She never failed to have such a lovely tea spread on a snowy white tablecloth, and her best china gracing the table. Tea in the farm kitchen was quite different from the usual nursery tea at home. Such delicious scones and tea-cakes! (It really would not have pleased cook to hear the praise bestowed upon them, as if she did not make quite as good.)

After tea they went around the farmyard to inspect their pets. A little gosling, quite tame and friendly, was chosen for Carol's especial pet. The hour, which was all nurse had allowed them, passed very quickly, and they started on the homeward walk. They had not gone far when a drizzling rain began. Jane then suggested the advisability of crossing a field which would shorten the distance considerably. When they came to the field, she was surprised to find the gate fastened.

"This gate is generally open. I wonder why it is padlocked to-day, but it is not too high to get over. If you climb over first, Master Carol, I can lift Rosebud over to you."

Carol soon mounted the five-barred gate, and landed safely on the other side, then received one by one Rosebud, Estelle, and Sylvia, from Jane's arm, as she lifted them over. They had walked about two hundred yards when Jane stood still in an agony of fright, as an animal, which had been lying unperceived in a distant corner of the field, rose up and came towards them with a loud bellow.

"Oh, Master Carol! What shall we do? It's the bull! He's a terror! I've heard of him. He's a tosser!"

"Don't be frightened, Jane. Just walk quietly. The bull won't hurt us, if we are not frightened."

Jane caught Rosebud in her arms, and with Estelle and Sylvia clinging to either side, walked as quickly as she dared towards the stile on the other side of the field. Fortunately, it was a stile easier to mount than the five-barred gate had been. It was but the work of a moment and the three little girls were lifted safely to the other side. Then, Jane turned to look for Carol. He had walked only a third of the distance, keeping always between the bull and his cousins, and now he stood face to face with the animal, a few yards only between them. Another low bellow, and then the animal bent his head to the ground, prepared for a spring.

"Run, run, Master Carol," Jane screamed. It was a fatal appeal. The mesmerism of fear seized Carol. He turned to look after his cousins. The next instant he was on the horns of the animal, tossed high in the air, as if he had been no heavier than an India-rubber ball. Mercifully, he fell on the other side of the hedge, which divided that field from the next. With a roar of baffled rage, the animal stampeded the field, seeking to toss his victim a second time.