Jubilee Hall

"Why, that very likely he did put the stones in to keep down the leaves,—that he does not exactly know why he put them in. And at the beginning, you remember, he never denied that he put them in on purpose. But that's just it, he can persuade himself to think anything he likes, and then he grows to believe in what he has made himself think. But, I say, let us go out and try to find him; and if we can only catch him in a good humour, we might coax him to put back the bow. The best thing to put it on will be poor mother; for, you know, if it ever came to her ears, she'd simply never get over it."

The children found Fred strolling in the sycamore walk. He was sauntering along with his hands in his pockets, and kicking little pebbles in front of him, as he went along, with the toe of his boot; but he was neither whistling nor singing, as was his wont, and his gait had a certain air of depression about it that both Kathleen and Harry instinctively recognized.

"Well, what are you following me for?" he asked, as he turned at the sound of their footsteps, and saw them coming rather nervously forward to meet him.

"We guessed you were dodging about somewhere in these diggings," said Harry, speaking first, "and we wanted to see you before we began the jam-covering."

"What for?" asked Fred, kicking another large pebble along the walk, and his brow darkening. "I should think you and I had had enough of each other's company this morning."

"Come along, Fred, old boy, and don't be so cranky," cried Harry, taking his brother by the shoulder and thrusting his hand through his arm. "I want awfully to pal up with you, and make things straight if we can. You see Katy and I have been thinking what an awful thing it will be if mother comes to hear about this tin-can affair; and she'll be so cut up about it that I don't think she'll ever get over it, and the whole thing could be set straight so easily."

"Oh ay, I daresay it's an awfully easy thing, is it not, to go and say, 'I did cheat, and you found me out, and so I can't help making a clean breast of it'? I tell you now, Harry, once for all, if you and Kathleen have come down here to wheedle me into putting the bow back, I'll see you further first before I'll do it, and that's an end of it."

"But, Fred, only think."

"Think! I've thought until I'm blue in the face with thinking, and the more I think the more certain I am I did nothing but what was quite fair, or, at least, no worse than any one else; so if you've no more to say you had better cut off about your business."

"You'll come in for the jam-covering, won't you?" asked Kathleen anxiously.

"Not I. I've just as much idea of pasting on old jam covers as I have of putting a cover on myself. Besides, I am not going to run the risk of another affectionate note from my aunt, telling me that I cheated, or, perhaps, accusing me of taking a little out of each pot I covered. No, no; once is enough for that kind of thing."

"If you don't come in, Aunt Marian will think you are afraid, or ashamed."

"Afraid! If you think there is any danger of that, I'll go in this very instant and give them such a piece of my mind that I'll pull the whole house down about their ears. Afraid, indeed!" and Fred pushed on before them with great strides of anger.

"We had better leave him alone," whispered Harry. "He's in a stunner of a temper."

"But he won't go in and say anything to Aunt Marian, will he?"

"Not he; he has just as much idea of doing so as I have. He is just blustering all round the compass because he knows he's in the wrong. Oh, how I wish mother were here. Two words from her would set him as right as a trivet; but I'm such an ass, I always manage to make things worse. See, he has turned in exactly the opposite direction to the Hall. I would not be inside his jacket for a great deal."

Harry was quite correct in all his surmises. Fred had not the smallest intention of going to beard his aunt in her own home; on the contrary, his own desire was to escape from her sight. Although he tried to force his conscience into the belief that he had not acted dishonestly, or at least not more dishonestly than Harry had also tried to do, still he felt a guilty tremor rush all over and through every fibre of his body when he thought of coming face to face with his aunt, and foresaw the conversation which would most probably ensue; and thus he bad brought himself to the cowardly determination to absent himself altogether from the afternoon's employment. But oh the longing he had that he could see his mother,—that he could have just a few moments' conversation with her, and tell her all. She was so kind, so easy to speak to, he could confess all to her without trouble or fear, and could ask her for help and advice. She would explain to Aunt Marian how all had happened, and return the bow to the boudoir, which he had not the courage to do, and which he was too proud to allow his brother or sister to do for him; and Fred, when well out of sight of the others, in the sombre shade of the close-growing pines, threw himself down on the grass and cried, bitterly exclaiming between every sob, "Oh, mother, why are you not here; why, why are you not here, and then all would be well?"

In his grief and utter misery of mind Fred's heart rushed out spontaneously to the mother who had been all to him in his life. He had been in his childhood a delicate boy, and therefore of necessity his mother had watched over him with a peculiar care, and had shielded him from the troubles and sorrows of boyhood with a zealous watchfulness; and now that he had outgrown his former delicacy, and had to push his way through the rough world like the others, he turned at every rude breath to the shelter of her side, and still tried to draw the strength of his character from hers.

But those who choose willingly to lean all their weight on a human friend, must some time or other come to find that the reed, though it may bend and bow almost to the ground with its willingness to endure and be leaned upon, must give way some time, and then the fall is all the more helpless and hopeless. And this Fred's mother had many a time pointed out to her son, imploring of him in his troubles, which were many, to go to a higher and more certain Friend, and to draw help and succour from Him. She knew how frail her own life was, and she knew equally well the weakness of Fred's nature,—a nature keenly susceptible to pain and terribly open to the attacks of temptation,—and she had hesitated long and long before she consented to accept the invitation to Jubilee Hall; but in the end she and her husband had felt that it was well to give Fred the opportunity of acting and thinking for himself, and for testing how far his strength of character could be relied on.

Could Fred only have listened to the pleading voice that had been urging him on to the easy and silent confession of his guilt demanded from him by his aunt, how immeasurably better it would have been for him: for conscience, once rudely thrust aside with a resolute hand, lies often silent and crushed, and allows perhaps a worse error to creep in unnoticed and unopposed; the truth of which terrible danger Fred was also but too soon to experience. But for the present, blind as he was to the future and the temptation creeping silently at his heels, he only thought of the trouble which oppressed him, and not of the guilt which stood as yet unrepented of and unforgiven before the throne of God.

Fred, with his face on the grass and his hands pressed on his ears, did not hear in his trouble the sound of footsteps approaching slowly and lightly over the moss-covered ground, nor did the fear of any one's stumbling accidentally upon his retreat enter into his calculations for a moment. It was therefore in no low or suppressed accents of pain or entreaty that he called on his mother for help and assistance, and sobbed out his grief into the ferns and creeping ivy leaves.

Once a sound had startled him, and he had raised his head in terror, but it was only a cock pheasant calling to his mate; and in the intense stillness of all around him the rabbits were eating peacefully close by, or stroking the muffled down on their faces with their velvety and heathery paws.

But beyond this wild copse, where in the autumn the gun of the gamekeeper often made sad havoc, ay Aunt Marian's dairy-farm, in which she took a warm interest, and which, when time allowed, she personally superintended. This morning she had gone down to see the calves fed, and to doctor a poor heifer which had leaped a wire fence and hurt itself severely, and the time had glided so quickly by that she had not noticed it was nearly luncheon time until the farmyard bell had sounded for the workmen's dinner, and she knew that only ten minutes intervened between this bell and the gong which announced to the assembled guests that luncheon was on the table. She chose, therefore, the short cut through the wood, walking quickly though lightly, and arousing at every footstep some wild inhabitant of the copse; but when she had traversed about half the way she paused for a moment, hearing a cry of pain which seemed to come somewhere from the ground close by. She fancied at first that it was a wounded cat which had crawled somewhere among the ferns to die; for the gamekeeper had no compassion on these semi-wild animals, which ate his young rabbits and rifled the nests of the young game fledgelings, and from many a branch in the wood depended the dead bodies of three or four of these marauders. But as she paused, Aunt Marian caught distinctly the sound of a human voice, and approaching a few steps nearer heard, with pain and self-reproach, Fred's piteous lamentations and the cry for his mother's help, which brought quick and hot tears to her eyes, and for a moment made her irresolute whether to pass on noiselessly, or to stop and proffer her assistance and comfort to the boy.

Aunt Marian had a very soft heart, especially towards boys, and boys' tears could move her into an almost foolish weakness; and now Fred's sobbing appeal for his mother's love suddenly and effectually melted her heart from a kind of growing dislike and distrust of her nephew to a feeling of tender sympathy and compassion.

She paused, however, a moment before making known her presence, to settle in what manner she should address him. She feared increasing his distress, and her whole anxiety at the moment was how but to reassure and encourage him.

"Fred," she said presently, in a somewhat low but very cordial voice as she advanced to meet him, "I am so glad I have met you."

Fred started up, his cheeks blotched with tears and his eyes dazed and misty; but the moment he recognized his aunt a rush of crimson blood covered every inch of his face, and the expression of shame and alarmed surprise seemed to intensify the confusion and awkwardness of the meeting.

But Aunt Marian had looked for confusion and awkwardness of manner at so unexpected a rencounter, and in her sudden flow of sympathy she did not recognize the look of guilt and shame.

"Fred," she continued kindly, stretching out her hand to the boy, who now stood embarrassed and blushing before her, "I have just found you in the nick of time, for the workmen's bell has rung, and I shall certainly be late for luncheon, unless you can take this heavy basket from my hand and allow me to walk free."

"Of course I will, aunt," said Fred, his natural politeness of manner coming to his aid, though he shrank nervously from the thought of the long tête à tête walk home together to the Hall.

"May I take your arm," she continued in a peculiarly soft and pleasing voice; "for I have been standing so long in the dairy fields I am quite tired. I always make my own boys my walking-sticks," she added, with a short laugh, "and as they are not here, I must enlist you in my service."

"Certainly, aunt," replied Fred, growing much more at ease under the healing influence of Lady Brinsley's kindness.

She took his arm, and they walked on through the copse, Aunt Marian keeping the conversation going with descriptions of the wild cats and their thieving propensities, and telling him the quaint sayings of the head gamekeeper, an Irishman, who was quite a character and full of genuine wit and humour. She also promised him a day's shooting with the same gamekeeper, if his father had no objection to his handling a gun; and Fred, by the time they had come within sight of the Hall, felt comparatively at his ease and very grateful for his aunt's kindness and good-natured tact.

It was not until they were within a few paces of the massive oak door of the Hall that the dreaded topic was touched on, and Fred was so comparatively off his guard, that his aunt was in the thick of the subject before he almost understood what she was saying.

"You'll come, of course, and give a helping hand in the jam-covering this afternoon," she said, taking the basket from his arm and moving a little forward.

"Oh yes, of course." Fred felt so much at his ease with his aunt now, that he had no fear or dislike to the occupation, and he answered without hesitation or reserve.

"I'm glad of that," she said quickly and without looking round; "for I'm afraid,"—here feeling her own cowardice she turned and looked Fred full in the face,—-"for I fear I have acted very ungenerously towards you, and accused you of a fault which I fully believe now you had no intention of committing. We all of us," she added kindly, tears springing up into her eyes, "make mistakes sometimes, and judge hastily and without sufficient grounds; but I know, Fred, you will believe me when I say how truly sorry I am for having given you so much pain, and that I beg of you not to think of the subject any more."

"Oh, Aunt Marian, please don't, don't say such things," cried Fred, his heart leaping up into his throat and his eyes also filling with impetuous tears. "You, you—Aunt Marian, don't go into the house, please; I—I—"

But Aunt Marian had said what she had been struggling to gather courage for during the last ten minutes; and she was now inside the doorway and hurrying up the stairs to take off her out-door clothes before the gong should summon the guests to luncheon.

CHAPTER VIII.

COVERING THE JAM.

When Fred entered the luncheon-room a few minutes after the gong had sounded, with bright face, easy manner, and a general air of satisfaction, Kathleen and Harry could scarcely believe the testimony of their eyes; and when further, in reply to a question of their aunt, he undertook to marshal the whole bevy of jam-coverers to the housekeeper's room as soon as luncheon should be ended, their amazement almost amounted to disbelief, and many glances, expressive of surprise and curiosity, were exchanged between them, with mutual elevations of the eyebrows, to explain that neither party was in the secret of this great and unlooked-for change.

"I say," said Harry, getting close to his brother as they went out into the passage preparatory to going downstairs, "have you done it after all? I guess you have; and if so, you're no end of a brick."

"Done what?" said Fred testily, as he pushed Harry aside with his elbow; "of course I haven't; but it's all as right as a trivet, and aunt and I are the best of friends."

"Then you have told her?"

"Do be quiet, will you, Harry? and not call every one's attention to me and my affairs. I tell you I have done nothing of the kind, and don't intend either. Aunt Marian has been awfully good-natured to me, and she says it's all right; and I suppose if she says so, you need not trouble yourself about it."

Harry was hustled away from his brother's side and his hopes and fears made light of; but still, though Fred said he need not trouble himself about the matter, he could not help doing so. He drew Kathleen aside into the shadow of the coal-vault, and there they stood and argued the whole question backwards and forwards in timid whispers and in much anxiety on Fred's account, as they both felt the whole thing would come to light some day or other, and that then his case would be even more desperate than it seemed now; and besides, Kathleen could not imagine Fred looking so happy and buoyant if he still had the heavy weight of deception and guilt hanging round his neck.

"I do believe he has brought himself to think that he has done nothing either wrong or shabby, else he could never look so sprag," said Harry with a parting sigh; "and I'm afraid there ain't much use in our trying to undeceive him. He only gets into awful waxes when I go in at him, and says even worse things than he feels. What do you think, Katy?"

"I think—I hope," she whispered, "that when we go home he will tell mamma all about it, and she will be able to speak to him so much better than we can; and besides, she can explain everything to Aunt Marian, and perhaps things may come right in the end."

"Well, we must just hope so," said Harry; "but I can't bear to see Aunt Marian imposed on. I see perfectly well, by all she says and does, that she thinks she has accused Fred unjustly; and it's awfully shabby of him to act up to it. Not but that I might do the same myself if I were in his place," he added humbly. "But I say, Katy, there are rats in this cellar. I hear something rustling in the corner. Oh, I see something white; let's cut and run;" and in another moment, with somewhat grimy hands and white faces, the two children took their places at the long deal table where the process of covering the jam had already begun.

Fred was seated at the head of the table, busily engaged in dispensing paper, gum, and innumerable pairs of scissors to his subs; and not a lingering cloud of trouble seemed to overshadow his good-humoured affability. When he chose to be amusing and pleasant, there was no one who could make himself more generally agreeable; and "Bravo, Fred!" "That's a good fellow, Fred!" might be heard at intervals from various admirers round the table as he laid down some maxims couched in the most absurd language, or made some buffoonish grimace. And thus the afternoon wore on in the most peaceful and perfect harmony; and whenever Aunt Marian looked in on her guests, she saw with genuine delight all the heads busily bent over their work, and heard the peals of laughter at each fresh pun or joke perpetrated by one of the company.

"I say, Harry," she said, kindly laying her hand on her nephew's shoulder, "what's gone wrong with you this evening? I see all the rest laughing and as merry a& crickets, but I don't think you and Kathleen have smiled once. You are not ill, are you?"

"Oh no, thank you, aunt, I am quite well. It's awfully jolly work this jam-covering, and I like it awfully; really I do."

Poor Harry's confusion was evident to the whole table, and Aunt Marian good-naturedly desisted from asking any further question.

"When the jam is all covered, I must ask for your assistance in putting it by," she said presently, addressing the assembled company; "some of the shelves are too high for me to reach up to, and besides I think you would like to see my store-room, which I consider is one of the most comfortable rooms in the house."

Of course, the boys and girls around the table were loud in their acquiescence, and the snipping and snapping of the various pairs of scissors seemed to proceed even more rapidly than before.

"I say, what a regiment of jam pots that brother of yours has managed to cover with all his tomfoolery and joking. I never saw such a fellow for being first in at everything," said young Maurice Brinsley, looking across the table at Fred, whose row of neatly covered preserves certainly seemed more numerous than any of the others. "He won the prize for the jam-picking, and now he's going to bag this one as well. How does he manage it, I wonder?"

"I am sure I don't know," replied Harry, not raising his head from his own work; "I have been so busy looking after my own affairs, I never saw how fast he had got on."

"I can't imagine how he managed to get his can filled so quickly yesterday," continued Maurice innocently, "for he and I went in for a grub of black currants that lasted till we were both fairly done; and though I picked hard for the rest of the time, I had not half filled my can, so I could scarcely believe my eyes or my ears when I saw his tin handed in, and afterwards heard he had got first prize."

"But he did not get first prize," replied Harry, forgetting for the moment what might be the result of his confidence. "It was Kathleen who really won it; for—for there was a mistake somewhere, but Aunt Marian set it all right afterwards."

"How! a mistake! I don't quite understand."

"Oh, nothing; it was only some stones which Fred had put at the bottom of his can to keep the leaves down. At least, that's to say, there were some stones, and of course that made his can weigh heavier than hers."

"You don't mean to say that Fred put stones into his can after all?"

"Why 'after all'?" asked Harry open-mouthed.

"Why, because when he and I were grubbing at the currants, I said for fun, 'What a lark it would be to fill one's can with stones and put only a layer of fruit at the top, and then to see mother's face of surprise when she came to weigh the fruit;' but—"

"Then he did think she would weigh it?" said Harry again, speaking more in accordance with his own thoughts than with the prudence his brother might have expected from him.

"Of course we knew she would have to weigh the cans, or at least, we felt more or less certain of it. But I say, Harry," here Maurice sunk his voice suddenly to a whisper, "Fred's got his eyes fixed on us, and he don't seem to like our conversation."

"Pooh! who cares?" replied Harry hotly. But for all that he went on with his work, and after this a general lack of conversation seemed to fall over all the company, Fred setting them the example by a stony and somewhat sullen silence.

"I expect you'll catch it by-and-by," whispered Maurice into Harry's ear.

"Of course you'll not repeat anything I have said to you?" replied Harry nervously. He was beginning to think he had perhaps inculpated his brother, and yet he possessed no certainty of his guilt.

"I! of course not; it would only drag you into a row, and do no good;—but I must say, if he did put stones in his can after all the talk we had about it, it was a howling shame, and no mistake."

When the first gong sounded and the time for dressing for dinner had arrived, Aunt Marian entered the housekeeper's room to adjudge the prize; and again on this occasion, without any doubt or even loophole for suspicion, Fred's quick and neat fingers had gained the day. He had covered a round dozen more than any of the others, with five minutes allowed to him for dispensing the necessary materials; and this time the prize was a box containing a complete set of lawn-tennis, all beautifully packed into different compartments, and the whole case of a portable size, and fitted with a good lock and key.

Fred was more than satisfied with his aunt's choice. He had wished every day since he came to Jubilee Hall that they had lawn-tennis at The Cedars; and he had even planned in his own mind whereabouts the game could be best played, and the shady spots where garden-seats could be placed for lookers on; and now his aunt had forestalled his wishes, and when he went home he would be able to set it up at once, and have capital games in the autumn. He thanked his Aunt Marian again and again in the most grateful and enthusiastic manner, and not a few of the company envied him the possession of such a prize.

CHAPTER IX.

AUNT MARIAN'S STORE-ROOM

"Now, Fred, listen to me," observed Harry the following morning, when, breakfast being over, they all sallied out in front of the house for a stroll, "if you are going to come it over me in this way I won't stand it, and that's an end of it."

"How come it over you?" said Fred slowly and indifferently, as he pretended to follow the flight of a distant wood-pigeon.

"I mean sticking me into Coventry, and riding your high horse."

"I'll ride any horse I like, high or low, without asking your leave."

"Very well, ride away, and do just as you like; but if you go on with these airs to Kathleen and me which you have kept up all yesterday afternoon and this morning, I'll go my way, that's all."

"Well, and what's your way, may I ask?"

"Simply, I shall go straight to Aunt Marian's boudoir and let her hear the whole matter out, every word and syllable from beginning to end; for, to tell you the truth, I am getting dog-tired of this kind of life. When we came here first I was as jolly as a sand-boy, and now I'm sick of the place, and of everybody and everything."

"Well, that's not my fault."

"It is your fault, it's altogether your fault; for every atom of this wretchedness has come out of that odious heap of stones which you put into your can."

"Humbug! how on earth can that harm you? If it hurts any one it's me, and that's my own affair."

"How can a thing be only your affair, when it has made, and does make, so many people miserable?"

"You are talking simple rubbish, Harry, and I defy you to prove one word of what you say, except, indeed, so far as concerns yourself and Kathleen; and as any one with two eyes in his head can see what a pleasure it is to you both to be miserable, I don't see how you can blame me for it."

Harry's face and eyes perfectly flamed with indignation at Fred's justification of his conduct, and a host of passionate words came rushing hotly to his lips, but Maurice's voice being heard in the shrubbery-walk close at hand, he constrained himself to silence, and walking a step or so forward he picked some pebbles from the gravelled walk and began slinging them at random across the lawn.

"And what's more," cried Fred, roused to a sudden recollection by the sound of his cousin's voice, "I don't see what right you have to call me a sneak and a cheat, and all that, when you go peaching on me behind my back to Maurice, and setting all kinds of suspicions afloat about me, when you may be quite as wrong as—as—"

"As you are," replied Harry shortly. "But as I said before, I'm sick of this sort of life, and of this house and this place; and jolly and delightful as I thought it at first, I'd a million times rather be at home now; and if things don't change from what they are soon, I'll write and ask father and mother to come over for us."

"Bosh!" said Fred, "as if father or mother would come even if you did write. Of course they wouldn't, unless there was some good reason for bringing them over, and I'd like to know where you'd find that."

"Easily enough," murmured Harry beneath his breath; and then, having remained a long ten minutes looking at the beds of flowers all about and around him, he turned towards his brother, and, with quite another tone of voice and expression of face, exclaimed,—"Fred."

"Well."

"Listen; I'll say it all for you, if you like."

"Say what?"

"I'll go now and see Aunt Marian, and make everything straight, you'll see, when I have told her all; and how at the beginning you didn't mean—at least—well, never mind, I'll promise you I'll say it the best way it can be said; and then we shall both be so awfully glad when it's off our minds, shan't we, Fred?"

"I am sure I don't know," replied Fred, swinging his long legs backwards and forwards beneath the iron chair on which he had seated himself; "you always make such mountains out of mole-hills, a fellow never knows what your opinion is worth. I can't for the life of me see that I've done anything so very wrong; in fact, I should never have thought of it a second time, only you and Kathleen pulled such awfully long faces at me, that you turned me sour and cross whether I would or not; and for all I know, if you had left me alone I might have set the whole thing straight in a jiffy."

Fred had a way of putting things that often puzzled Harry sorely, and made him feel for the time as if wrong were right and right wrong; and as Fred now sought to shove the burden of his fault on Harry's shoulders, so Harry began to wonder and question himself if it might not be quite true what his brother said, and that, if he had only left him alone, he would have seen the right course to take, and have followed it. "I know I always do bungle things," replied he humbly; "and I know people hate being bothered into things."

It was Fred's turn now to grow distressed and uneasy. He made no reply for some minutes to Harry's last speech, but kept his eyes fixed on a large fuchsia in a neighbouring bed, evidently thinking anxiously on some subject. At last he said, with a nervous effort to appear quite at his ease, "I'll tell you, Hal, what I'll do. As you seem to take it so much to heart, as soon as ever I go home I'll have a talk with mother on the whole affair, and tell her exactly how the land lies; and if she thinks I oughtn't to keep the prize, I'll give it up, or I'll get her to return it, which comes to the same thing, and that will set all to rights, won't it, Harry?"

"Are you really in earnest?" asked Harry, his whole face glowing from the sudden and unlooked-for relief; "for if you are, I'll say you're a brick, and no mistake."

"Of course I'm in earnest; I'm not quite such a hypocrite as you take me for."

"Indeed, Fred, I don't take you for a hypocrite or anything the least like it; only, I'm so awfully glad you're going to do it: for mother will be sure to know what's right; and I'm such a gaby, I daresay it is I who have been making a great fuss about nothing all the time."

"Well, at any rate, let's all try to be jolly for the rest of the time we are here; Aunt Marian will think we are a set of prigs with the way we have been going on, looking glum, and morose, and stupid, when all the others were bursting their sides with laughter. You'll cheer up now, Harry, won't you?"

"Cheer up? why, I feel as if I could make one good flying leap over sun, moon, and stars, and the equator into the bargain;" and Harry, to prove the truth of his words, made one good flying leap over the end of the iron seat, alighting somewhat ignominiously on the other side, with face, hands, and knees in close contact with the sharp gravel on the pathway.

"I say, Hal, old boy, that's what one might call a cropper of the first water," cried a cheery voice in our fallen hero's ears, as he raised himself up and shook himself free from the gravel and dust which adhered to both hands, and to the knees of his trousers; "if you make such a bad shot at the equator, you'll be likely to come to grief, and get impaled on the North Pole, or something of the kind. But I've been looking for you everywhere, for don't you remember you and I were to have a game at chess to-day, and as we can't have it in the afternoon on account of the jam having to be put away, I thought we might as well have a shy at it now."

"All square," replied Harry cheerfully. "I'm game for any fun going, from pitch and toss to manslaughter, only I warn you, you'll get the worst of it; for I feel as if I could fight Goliath this morning, I'm so sprag and hearty in myself."

"If you make as good a shot at the game as you did at the iron chair a moment ago, I'm afraid I shall get the worst of it," replied Maurice laughing, "especially as I'm by no means in a serene temper. I've been worriting at the old mother for the last hour to give me out the Japanese chess-men which she has locked up in her store-room; but she won't do it, for she says the old wooden ones are quite good enough for us younkers; and though I coaxed, and bullied, and teased, it was all no good, so we must put up with what we have got, and be satisfied."

"They must be awfully precious men," said Harry open-eyed, for he had never heard his aunt refuse Maurice anything before.

"Precious is no word for it. They are all of the most exquisite carved ivory. Every piece is a curiosity in itself: the castles are all on elephants' backs, and the king and queen are the grandest old coves going; and as to the knights, they are simply A1, all of them mounted on horseback, and with banners in their hands. Oh, I do wish I could even have shown them to you, but mother didn't seem to like my asking her."

"I wonder why; I confess I for one would have given a good deal to have a peep at them," said Fred, who, having a lathe of his own at home, and being a decided genius in the art of carving, took delight in looking at anything new and curious in his favourite art.

Maurice scarcely looked at Fred or noticed his remark, but addressing himself to Harry, cried, "I am sorry, now that I think of it, that I nagged at mother so much about them; for it's dawning on me that these very chess-men were a present from my poor father, which arrived at home just after mother heard of his death, and I am sure that is why she does not like to have them knocked about."

"But we need not knock them about, need we?" asked Fred, again seeking to obtain a hearing.

"If you mean that you wish me to ask mother for them again, I'm going to do no such thing," Maurice answered, with scarcely the amount of politeness in his tone due to one's guest, and especially as Fred fancied he heard him add in a lower tone, "least of all for you."

"I am sure I don't care whether you do or not," replied Fred in sudden heat at the tone and words of his cousin. "I dare say I have seen finer chess-men than any you could show me, so you need not trouble yourself to be any ruder than you are by nature."

Maurice merely turned round and stared Fred full in the face with an expression of contempt and unbelief which did not tend to allay the rising fire in his cousin's breast, and, without addressing another word to him, he moved nearer to Harry, who had been standing by, an unhappy spectator of the scene.

"Come along and let's begin our game," he said, "or we shall only have got well into the heat of it all when it will be time to stop. Come along, I say;" and Maurice, taking Harry under his arm without casting another glance in Fred's direction, walked off with him towards the Hall, and through the oak doorway into the house.

Fred remained seated outside for a considerable time longer, and the reverie which he fell into in his solitude was of no very amiable kind.

"What on earth does the fellow mean by treating me in that way?" he growled angrily as the two figures disappeared in the doorway; "he has as much manners as a bear. I'll soon let Aunt Marian hear, if he goes on with any more of his cocksputtiness. It was not to have us spoken to and stared at as if we were a set of Yahoos, that she invited us here. No, no; my fine Master Maurice, I'll not stand such humbug from any one, least of all from you; so you'd better not try it on with me again, that's all." And while Fred vented his anger in such-like idle threats, he raked the path to and fro with his walking-cane, until he had scarred the evenly strewed gravel with unseemly lines and bars.

Nor when luncheon time arrived, and all the party assembled once more in the dining-room, did matters seem more agreeable or promising for Fred. Aunt Marian, who, as usual, presided at the head of the table, seemed preoccupied and out of spirits. Now and then, when Fred looked furtively up, he fancied her eyes were fixed uneasily on him; but the instant their looks met she started, blushed, and turned her head another way. Could it be that the affair about the chess-box was weighing on her mind, or what? But why then need she look so anxiously at him? And Fred tried, as he could not reason the matter out, to push it from his mind altogether, and determined not to look again in her direction.

After luncheon Aunt Marian made a decided effort to brighten up, and, calling all her guests together, she invited them to follow her to the store-room, that she might give them directions where the various jams were to be stored away; and also, she wished to show them some curiosities which she had packed away down there for greater safety, until a wonderful Chinese cabinet which she was expecting from London should arrive to hold them.

All those who did not know the downstairs region of the left wing of the Hall, were enchanted and surprised with the immense rows of dungeon-like rooms which branched off in all directions from the landing under Lady Brinsley's boudoir; and much interest was excited when she came to a full stop opposite a door at the foot of, or rather underneath the flight of stairs which led from the underground region to the upper world.

"I have had my store-room built here purposely," she said putting a large key into the key-hole; "because the flue of the kitchen chimney runs parallel to the shelves along the wall, and thus everything on them is kept dry and free from must. You must not all crowd into the store-room at once, but come in six or seven at a time, and I will show you whatever there is worth seeing; and I must only trust to the honour of the company at large, that, when I am no longer here to superintend the proceedings, anything any of you wish to see you will look at with your eyes, and not with your fingers; for some of my curiosities are of a very fragile kind, and a rough touch or an awkward hand might entirely destroy them. You will be careful all of you, won't you?" she said looking around; "and you, Maurice, and you, Harry Malcomson, I leave you both as my aides-de-camp to see that nothing on my curiosity-shelf is touched or meddled with."

There was a general clamour of assent to Lady Brinsley's wishes, and loud assurances were given by those gathered round her that nothing should be stirred or injured in any way; and then the key was turned in the door, and as many as the room could hold were admitted.

Once inside, what a delicious odour there was of good things,—oranges, figs, raisins, biscuits, gingerbread, plum-cake; and how the dishes and open boxes of preserved fruits glanced from out the darker corners of the shelves!

The stairs overhead were so broad that the store-room was an unusually wide one, and by degrees, most of the party squeezed in so as to be able to catch a view of the case which Lady Brinsley had just lifted from the shelf overhead, and which Maurice, in a voice of superior knowledge, declared to be the gem of the peep-show.

And a most curious and wonderful affair it was when it was placed on the shelf in the window, and the light from the passage outside fell full upon it.

"This," said Aunt Marian, as she took a gold key from her watch-chain and placed it in the lock of the outside case, "this is a Japanese miniature barrel organ, and when I lift off this cover you will see what a strange piece of mechanism it is. Here, Maurice, give me a helping hand," and, assisted by her son, Lady Brinsley removed the outside sandalwood box, and revealed a most perfect and beautiful representation of a mimic stage, on the boards of which several figures in Japanese costume were standing, while a wonderfully painted and enamelled woodland scene at the back made everything appear strangely real and life-like.

Lady Brinsley, having given all the children time to see the stage and its occupants, pushed back a round silver peg at the side of the box, and at once, to the sound of a curious tinkling and somewhat unmusical music, the figures began moving about the stage, extending their arms in entreaty, throwing back their heads in haughty attitudes of refusal or pride, and, in fact, imitating in excellent style the effects of an operatic scene.

Fred pressed forward and gazed with a rapt eagerness at the toy. It was a thing after his own heart, and all troubles and doubts were for the moment forgotten, as he sought to puzzle out the mechanism of the wonderful Japanese automaton.

When every one had been given a full view of the theatre, it was packed up in its box and replaced with some difficulty by Maurice on an upper shelf. Fred followed it with longing eyes as it was returned to the safe keeping of the store-room and its surroundings; and as he did so his glance chanced to fall on another and smaller case close beside it, on which he could see painted in black letters the word "fragile."

"What is in that other box?" he asked curiously; "may we have a look at it also?"

"No, dear; I never open that box," replied Lady Brinsley, in a nervous and somewhat hesitating voice; "its contents are very brittle, and, besides, I have other reasons."

"But what are the contents?" cried Fred, so anxious to satisfy his curiosity, that his aunt's hesitation and distress did not affect him as it would otherwise probably have done.

"Chess-men," she answered shortly, "ivory chess-men.

"Oh!" sighed Fred, "these are the men I suppose Maurice wanted so much to show Harry. Might we not even take one look into the box? we were all so much disappointed."

"Speak for yourself, please," cried Maurice angrily; "neither Harry nor I care a straw whether we see them or not."

"You said you did care very much this morning," retorted Fred, in newly kindled wrath at Maurice's words and manner. "You were quite vexed that you had not been allowed to have them, and you grumbled precious loud about it."

"Shut up, will you. If you had the tact or the good taste of a hen-sparrow, you would know when to leave off a disagreeable subject."

"Maurice, Maurice," said Lady Brinsley reprovingly.—"Suppose now, you all set about the jam and its arrangement," she added cheerfully. "You will find a little wooden ladder in the passage by the pantry which will enable you to pack away a good deal on the high shelves."

Thus the subject of the chess-men dropped for the present; but Fred and Maurice regarded each other with no friendly eyes, and Harry was consequently uneasy and distressed. He felt inclined to take his brother's side in this argument, for he thought Maurice had spoken very roughly to Fred before such a large company, and yet he could not but fear it was his own insinuations on the occasion of the jam covering that had set Maurice so much against Fred. However, in the general laughter, and fun, and jollity which went on, the carrying down the trays of jam, and arranging them in order on the shelves, Harry soon forgot his trouble, and amused himself in playing off a series of his own peculiar style of practical jokes, which were of a very harmless nature, and seldom were pushed sufficiently far to give occasion for offence or anger.

Fred was so absorbed in gazing at the varied contents of the store-room, that he gave but small assistance in the labours of the afternoon; the dark nooks of this mysterious apartment, running, as they did, far up beneath the stairs, had a charm for his inquisitive nature which the more playful of his companions could scarcely have understood. And besides all this, Fred had a longing, amounting almost to misery, to raise the lid of the white box labelled "fragile," and take one glimpse at the rare carving of the Chinese chess-men; and, like a true descendant of our first parents, the more he was hindered from prying, the more intense grew the desire for the forbidden pleasure.

But Maurice seemed to have an inkling of this weakness of Fred, and kept constantly within the sombre precincts of the store-room. He sent the others for the jam and remained himself perched on the ladder, the top of which was propped against the very shelf on which stood the box containing the chess-men; and while Maurice kept firm to his post, Fred had but small chance of the much longed-for peep.

"Why aren't you trying for the prize this afternoon, eh? you are so lucky at winning prizes," asked Maurice of his cousin, in a tone which savoured only too little of politeness; "or perhaps you intend to try your old dodge of making a rush for it in the end, and winning in a hand gallop."

"It's a pity," replied Fred, from some dark corner of the store-room, "that twopence was not charged at your school for good manners; but, I suppose, because you're king of your own castle, you may cheek a fellow as much as you like."

"Humph! 'king of my own castle.' Your head seems to be running very much this morning on the chess-line; you'd give a good deal, I dare say, to get one squint inside of this box;" and Maurice laid his great schoolboy hand on the lid of the white case and smiled, it must be confessed in no very pleasant way, at his cousin.

Maurice had such a loathing for a mean or ungenerous action, he could not conceal his contempt for the boy whose conduct circumstances had led him to distrust; and being the eldest son, and having been, in consequence of his father's death, placed in an unusually prominent position, he had not, perhaps, learned to exercise as much self-control on certain occasions as would have been more fitting and becoming at his age; and he saw the red fire leap into his cousin's eye in the gloom of the dark corner where he stood, though it did not make him desist from his uncourteous conduct.

Fred was an eldest son also, and a somewhat spoiled and petted boy, and he was as little prepared to bear with Maurice's contemptuous treatment as Maurice was to bear with him; so words waxed high between them, and the other guests, abashed and frightened, stood aloof from the scene of action and listened with awe not unmixed with dismay to the passionate tones rising higher and higher within the citadel whose closely barred window showed only the shadowy outlines of the combatants within.

Harry alone ventured to draw near enough to the scene of action to catch some of the voluble words of anger and reproach which passed from the lips of both the boys, and his heart burned with a sudden flame of passion when he heard the words "sneak, cheat, robber," hurled at his brother's head by Maurice, who, still standing on the ladder, kept guard over the box marked "fragile."

"Fred, come out; don't listen to him," cried Harry, driven by the force of his feelings to mingle in the fray; "a fellow who calls another a cheat and a sneak, is no gentleman, I don't care who he is."

"I repeat it," cried Maurice. "I say he is a vile, dastardly sneak, and a liar into the bargain; and no one knows it better than yourself."

At these words there was a crash. Impelled at the same moment by an uncontrollable burst of anger, both brothers had rushed upon the occupant of the ladder, and, pushing it violently aside, had sent Maurice head foremost into a trayful of jam pots, and finally sprawling on the floor.

But a couple of sacks broke Maurice's fall, and he only rose with redoubled fury to continue the fray. Harry he merely thrust out into the passage with one lurch of his great strong arm; but Fred he sent whirling back into the darkness with a blow planted right in the middle of his chest, and an accompanying kick which raised him for a moment from the ground only to fall the more heavily on his back, which struck against something sharp protruding from the wall, and he finally rested upon a shelf raised about a foot or so from the ground, and which extended far back to the very end of the store-room floor, and which was, in fact, only a kind of low platform at the further end of the room.

At this moment there was a cry raised somewhere that Lady Brinsley was coming; and Maurice, ashamed and confused, picked up the ladder, and having placed it against the shelf, began arranging the jam pots, in a somewhat irregular manner, it must be confessed, but still it helped to carry off what would have been otherwise a very unpleasant position.

Fred, meantime, who was smarting all over from the fall, and whose shoulder-blade was cruelly bruised by the blow he had received in his descent, sat down moodily on the shelf or step on which he had fallen, and sulkily awaited the issue of his aunt's arrival.

But Lady Brinsley had no wish just now to enter into this embroilment between her son and her nephew, for, to tell the truth, she would have been sorely puzzled what to say; so she merely looked in at the store-room door for a moment and murmured anxiously, "Maurice, dear, do not let there be such a noise downstairs any more. You know I don't dislike a pleasant row, but the sounds which I heard just now were anything but that. Do try to remember that it is our business to make our guests happy, no matter how they have behaved, and even though Fred has—"

"Fred is here to answer for himself," cried Maurice hastily; for he guessed the gloom of the room had concealed his cousin's presence, and he had no wish to mix up his mother unpleasantly in the business.

"What is all this about, Fred?" asked Lady Brinsley, peering anxiously through the darkness for the figure crouched on the step.

"I am sure I don't know," replied Fred in a sullen tone.

"It's all about this confounded—;" Maurice stopped a moment and then continued nervously, "it's all about this unfortunate chess-box, which Fred is determined to have a look at, and which he says as sure as he's alive he'll see some way or other,—and I'm just as determined that he shan't. I wish you would take it upstairs, mother, and lock it up somewhere; for he's such a fellow he would manage to sneak in through a mouse-hole to gain his purpose."

"Maurice, Maurice, indeed I cannot allow you to speak so," said his mother gravely. "You know well I would far rather, whatever pain it might have cost me, have taken down the box and shown it to Fred, than have had this most unpleasant discussion."

"I don't want to see it," said Fred proudly; "only I won't be bullied by him."

"You swore a moment ago you'd see it if you tore the whole window out of its socket," cried Maurice, growing hot and indignant at Fred's denial.

"And so I would, if you tried to stop me from seeing it."

"Then all I can say is, I'll stop you as long as I have hands on my arms or feet on my legs, and not the most distant vision of one of the men shall you ever see,—at least while you are in this house; unless, indeed, mother chooses to show them to you, and that's no business of mine."

"Maurice, let there be an end of this at once," cried Lady Brinsley, in a tone which her son never dared to oppose. "Whatever else you may be doing, you are not behaving like a gentleman, nor will you by your example be likely to influence your cousin for good. If this most unseemly noise continues, I will just lock the store-room door and break up the whole afternoon, which, I think, would be scarcely fair to our other guests."

"All serene," cried Maurice hoarsely; he was not accustomed to being reproved so sharply by his mother, and before Fred, too. "I'll not say another word," he added in a lower voice; "but I'll balk his sneaking tricks for all that."

CHAPTER X.

A DISCOVERY.

Maurice was as good as his word. He never uttered another syllable to Fred, nor did he relax his guard over the shelf where stood the coveted box, but still kept his position on the ladder, arranging in order the various trays of jams, carried down by the others; and after a time, as Fred also remained perfectly silent and inactive in the corner, the "row" was partially forgotten, and jokes and laughter began again to be heard in the halls and passages.

Meantime Fred, who had sat in a kind of gloomy abstraction for nearly half an hour, only showing that he was not asleep by the occasional red gleam from his eyes which shone strangely out of the sombre obscurity of his retreat, suddenly awoke to a strange and thrilling discovery which made his heart beat quick and loud against his side, and which almost tempted him to doubt the evidence of his senses.

And this discovery was brought about in the following manner:—His shoulder, which had been so sorely bruised in the fall, ached terribly for a long time after the other effects of his misfortunes had passed away, till at length, in a vexed and sullen spirit, he searched about and around the place to see against what sharp thing he could have struck when falling, or what accident could have caused the wound which kept on aching so wearily.

For a long time he could see nothing; for the corner where he sat was so dark that objects only revealed themselves slowly to his sight, and it was not for many minutes after he had sat down that he even found out that the platform on which he was seated was used evidently for drying candles and soap, as many squares of the latter were spread out on it, and bundles of candles in orderly rows side by side were also arranged with the same neatness and method; and the roof of the store-room being formed by the stairs overhead it was of necessity a sloping one, and over the shelf on which Fred sat it came slanting down so low as almost to touch his head, so that to rise upright would have been impossible. At some distance behind him the room ended in a dark angle where nothing taller than a cat or a rat could creep along, and as well as Fred's eye could discern, this low nook was used only as a receptacle for old sacks, files of bills, mouse traps and so forth. But so great was Fred's natural curiosity that he longed to pry into its depths, and had he been alone he would certainly have crept on hands and knees along the platform and examined minutely all there was to be seen there; but as it was, he had a character for proud indifference to keep up just now, so he found sufficient interest in searching for the origin of his present suffering, wondering vaguely how it could have been caused.

At length his shoulder became so painful and his back ached so badly, he shoved himself along the wooden platform on which he was seated to the nearest wall of the store-room, so that he might lean his side against it for support, and it was then he awoke suddenly to the discovery which caused him so much surprise and excitement; for as he pressed his head forward toward the wall he again came in contact with something hard and cold protruding from the wooden partition which formed one side of the store-room, and the blow which it gave him, coming, as it did, on the side of his head, caused him almost to cry aloud from pain.

Fred rubbed his wounded ear for a moment or so with his finger and muttered angrily to himself; then, feeling all up the wall with the palm of his hand, he sought to discover the knob or nail which had, as it seemed to him, purposely wounded him.

And he was not long in coming on it. It was an iron knob protruding from the wall, very hard and cold and round, and evidently fastened to the wooden panelling by screws or clamps of some kind or other. Fred turned and fixed his eyes narrowly on the spot; his curiosity was fully aroused, and he determined to get at the root of the matter. As he gazed, it seemed to him as if a silver rod ran down the whole length of the wall beside him, shining quite brightly, and almost glowing in the surrounding darkness.

Fred now ran his fingers down this rod, but found to his surprise that it was nothing tangible; only a long seam of light, which, entering by a crack or fissure in the panels of the wall, gave the appearance of a metal bar; for when some one passed by outside in the passage, the silver bar disappeared, but again returned when the obstruction had moved on.

Once more he ran his fingers up the crack, to ascertain its width, and this time his knuckles came in contact with another knob similar in shape and size to the one he had discovered below, only so high was it placed as to be but an inch or so below the slanting roof of the store-room.

Fred paused for a moment, and with his eyes still eagerly peering into the darkness, drew a long breath. It was just then his heart gave the first great throb, and that the blood tingled so curiously down to his finger-tips.

"Could it be?" he murmured, almost aloud; and then he took a furtive glance towards the stalwart figure of Maurice, who stood with his back turned, and perched on the top of the ladder. He ran his fingers no longer up the wall, but across it; and then he paused again, while the throbbing at his heart became more violent and uncomfortable. "Yes, it was what he suspected it to be." Quite far back he could feel hinges, one above and one below, corresponding exactly to the knobs on the opposite side of the panel. And these knobs, what were they? what could they be? Why, bolts of course; which, closing tightly on the silvery bar of light, kept this hidden egress from the room safe from the visits of intruders.

This was a discovery; as great and significant at the moment to Fred as if he had stumbled on a treasure of pure gold hidden away in some nook or cranny of the wall.

Then came the next question,—could the bolts move, or had long disuse rendered them stiff, and cramped, and useless? That they had not been opened for a long time, the cobwebs which stuck closely over them could testify; sticky gray cobwebs which clung to Fred's fingers and the knees of his trousers, and made him feel as if spiders were running down the back of his neck.

He must try whether the bolts would stir at his bidding or not; but oh! how cautiously must this essay be made, lest Maurice, ever on the alert, should look round and catch him in the act. Fred leaned his head once more in an attitude of weariness against the wall, and with one hand and arm thrust behind him, took the knob in his fingers and pressed, first gently, then a little harder; but no, it would not move, he must push more strongly still. But supposing it were to fly suddenly back, the door might leap open—oh! what a triumph for Maurice, what bitterness of defeat for him.

So Fred continued to push, ever so gently and gingerly, yet at the same time firmly, till at last there was a sharp creak and a grating squeak which could be heard all over the store-room.

Maurice turned hastily round and peered into the darkness; but there was Fred still sitting disconsolately on the step with his head against the wall. Maurice knew nothing of this secret door, so he only remarked, as if in answer to his own thoughts, "Rats," and turned away again carelessly to resume his work.

Meanwhile, Fred's eye had become riveted on a dish, on which lay heaped one on the top of the other sundry pounds of butter, evidently fresh from the churn. It had been placed on the same shelf where he sat, only at a safe distance from the aroma of the soap and candles; but a quick movement, now that Maurice's back was turned, would easily reach it; and Fred, stretching out his hand, like a flash of lightning removed a small piece from off the nearest roll, and conveying it to his other fingers, cautiously rubbed the rusty lock with the oily but most opportune "find."

This operation was decidedly successful; the next time he tried the bolt it moved, and no creak followed to betray him. The upper lock was greased in the same way, and it also moved, though a slight groan issued from its iron-moulded joints, which caused Maurice once again to turn his head, and murmur "Rats," while he wondered vaguely how such a cowardly fellow as Fred could be content to sit quietly over there in the dark, in such close proximity to rats and other vermin. Perhaps it was the weary dejected position in which Fred sat, with his head resting against the wall, that caused a momentary gleam of contrition and remorse in Maurice's bosom; for presently, in a voice which betrayed an evident struggle between pride and pity, he said, turning towards his cousin,—

"I advise you strongly not to take up your position in that corner, Fred; for the place is alive with cockroaches, and they will be crawling up your leg if you don't take care."

"I have not seen one," replied Fred shortly and sullenly.

"They are there for all that: it was only a few nights ago, when I came down here to fetch up some night-lights for mother, that I came on one as large as a cow, with horns that could have tossed me into the middle of next week. I never saw such a brute; he was more like an old stag cantering along the wall than a human being."

"I never knew cockroaches were human beings before," laughed one of Maurice's sisters, who was standing patiently at the foot of the table with a heavy load of jam in her extended arms, waiting for her brother to arrange them on the shelf above.

"My dear child, who ever supposed you did? But for all that I'm not so far out, for all men are animals, ain't they? and if a cockroach is not an ugly beast of an animal, what else is it? therefore a fortiori it follows, that if both are animals, there is no difference between them."

"All men are animals, but all animals are not men," replied Alice Brinsley, quoting somewhat sententiously from one of her well-read lesson books.

"And all girls are donkeys, though all donkeys aren't girls. I declare, Alice, I think you are the most assified old cockroach in the whole place; for a fellow can't make the most simple and natural observation in the world, but you thrust out your horns and pin him to the wall, while every scrap of knowledge that you have in your shallow pate could be found bound up between the two covers of Mangnall's Questions, beginning at the date when William the Conqueror threw the famous bucket of cold water over his brother Robert le Diable, down to the chap who found out how to square the circle, and make lemon pudding out of pigs' whiskers. There take that;" and Maurice concluded his exordium by seizing a large ball of cord from the shelf beside him, and flinging it right at his sister's uplifted nose, from which it sprang aside and rolled into the dark corner where Fred still sat with his head against the wall, apparently gloomy and abstracted.

But oh! how his face and attitude belied his real feelings, especially now he beheld the ball of cord, which for the last ten minutes he had been gazing at with covetous eyes, actually rolling forward to his very feet. Surely Maurice must have read his thoughts, and fathomed the scheme by which his cousin hoped to retrieve his vantage ground, and make good his angry boast. He must have caught a glimpse of the hungry eyes fixed on the coil of cord above his head, and putting two and two together, must have resolved to aid and abet his enemy, by conniving at his plans, and only planning the more completely and fatally to overthrow and destroy him.

These doubts made Fred hesitate for some minutes whether to avail himself of the unlooked-for assistance, during which time he watched his cousin closely, and narrowly scanned the fluctuating expression of his face; an expression all the more difficult to decipher, as Maurice, having lighted on a jar of French plums, had crammed about a dozen of them into his mouth at one time, and was now making the most frightful grimaces, struggling to eat them without choking or swallowing any of the stones.

But Maurice was perfectly innocent of any plan or plot being laid to undermine his pride; and as soon as he could find room to move his tongue, he again resumed his attack upon his sister, whose arms ached from the weight of the jam pots she still held in her hands, and from which he seemed in no hurry to relieve her.

"Here, Alice, are some rare seeds for you; or as Mangnall would call them, umbelliferous stones," cried Maurice, removing some of the kernels from his mouth, and placing them on the tray before her; "if you plant them in some good farinaceous kind of earth, and water them four times an hour, for fifteen minutes at a go, you'll have in the course of time a magnificent French-plum forest, similar in size and appearance to the famous forest of Ardennes, where Henry the Eighth killed the horrible wild boar, and was afterwards horribly bored to death himself by, I forget how many wives, with patent reversible heads, which could be taken off and on without any trouble; and which, according to Mangnall, was the origin of the penny stamp movement, which was called ever after Anne Boleyn's tragic end, a Queen's head.—Another pot of strawberry, if you please, and then the upper row will be quite full; and give us another handful of French plummers at the same time, that's a good girl, and then I shall be quite full also."

"My dear Maurice, you will really make yourself ill; and besides, you will certainly swallow some of the stones."

"And if I do, what harm? for if you have studied page 40 of Mangnall's 'Internal Economy,' you will find that a stone or apple allowed to fall inside a given circle, proves the gravitation of the Earth. But, good gracious, did you hear those rats again? I say, Fred, have you cheese-parings or what in your pockets, that you seem to be tempting them out of their holes at this time of day?"

To this Fred did not deign a reply, or, if he spoke, the answer was uttered in such a low voice that no one heard him; and Maurice, with a nod of his head, indicative of careless contempt, turned away for good from his cousin, and made no further effort to draw him into conversation.

Fred, meantime, had not been idle; he had, with his penknife, cut off two pieces of cord from the ball which lay, apparently still untouched, at his feet. At the end of each piece of cord he had made a running knot, and this knot he had skilfully placed like a noose over the neck of each bolt, and then drawn the knot tightly with his hands; but the greatest difficulty remained still unsurmounted. The bolts could, of course, be easily withdrawn by any one within the store-room, even without the aid of the cord; but the point which Fred was now eagerly debating in his mind was, how to get the ends of the cord on the other side of the panel, and thus give the power to an outsider to enter at any time he pleased.

The bolts, he had definitely discovered, were screwed to the door, and shot into iron clamps on the wall; so, in order to draw them back from the outside, the ends of the string would have to be passed through some aperture behind the head of the bolt; and how to make this opening without exciting suspicion, was the present stumbling-block in Fred's path. But as he moved himself a little further back on the shelf to get a clearer view of the door, he observed that just beneath the hinges there was also a faint glimmer of daylight, and this discovery solved the problem so satisfactorily, that in a few moments, with the aid of his penknife, he had thrust the end of the cord nearest to him out through the chink into the passage beyond, and he had only to wait patiently for a favourable opportunity to secure the other in the like manner.