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“Why, some were half-rotten or all rotten, and a good many were bruised”—,

Johnny Blossom sat down again with wonder in his eyes. It was all so amazingly queer. Suddenly his mother said, “You must not think, little John, that your father and I are altogether glad about this.”,

'You are now to learn that, about a century ago, this castle was in the possession of Vincent, third marquis of Mazzini, my grandfather. At that time there existed an inveterate hatred between our family and that of della Campo. I shall not now revert to the origin of the animosity, or relate the particulars of the consequent feuds—suffice it to observe, that by the power of our family, the della Campos were unable to preserve their former consequence in Sicily, and they have therefore quitted it for a foreign land to live in unmolested security. To return to my subject.—My grandfather, believing his life endangered by his enemy, planted spies upon him. He employed some of the numerous banditti who sought protection in his service, and after some weeks past in waiting for an opportunity, they seized Henry della Campo, and brought him secretly to this castle. He was for some time confined in a close chamber of the southern buildings, where he expired; by what means I shall forbear to mention. The plan had been so well conducted, and the secrecy so strictly preserved, that every endeavour of his family to trace the means of his disappearance proved ineffectual. Their conjectures, if they fell upon our family, were supported by no proof; and the della Campos are to this day ignorant of the mode of his death. A rumour had prevailed long before the death of my father, that the southern buildings of the castle were haunted. I disbelieved the fact, and treated it accordingly. One night, when every human being of the castle, except myself, was retired to rest, I had such strong and dreadful proofs of the general assertion, that even at this moment I cannot recollect them without horror. Let me, if possible, forget them. From that moment I forsook those buildings; they have ever since been shut up, and the circumstance I have mentioned, is the true reason why I have resided so little at the castle.',

And all at once the truth smote him: he ought not to have done this; he had known all the time that he ought not, and yet—he had done it.

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“Jeremias the wood-cutter is ill in bed, too,” he said suddenly.,

The hardest to find presents for were Uncle Isaac and Jeremias. Poor Jeremias was sick now; he had been in bed for a whole month with pains in his back and everywhere. Johnny Blossom had been to his house to see him every day that he had thought of it, and that was almost every day. Jeremias lay there alone all day long, except that Maria Kopp went in morning and evening to look after him a little. It was easy enough to get into the little house, for it was never locked. Any one could lift the latch and step in; then the thing to do was to get Jeremias a dipper of water and to fix up the fire. Jeremias would say, “Thank you kindly, sir” (he always said that), and then Johnny Blossom would dash out, fastening the door again with only the heavy old latch.,

“Guess I’m too far,” he thought. “Out of range!” But he guessed wrong, for a moment later his pony stumbled and fell. He rolled clear and staggered to his feet and started to run on. But a moment later he was jerked to earth. One of the men had roped him.,

Suddenly he had a brilliant idea. That beautiful frame that he had carved in the autumn, he would give that to Uncle Isaac, with a pretty card on which he would write: “A hearty Christmas greeting from an affectionate boy. Johnny Blossom.”