"It shall be done at once," said the doctor. "Will you speak to them, or shall I?"

"It does not much matter," replied Lord Woodruff. "Perhaps the pledge would come better from me, the natural prosecutor."

"Very good."

The doctor returned to his class-room, not too soon. One of the young scamps had taken his chair, and was delivering a burlesque lecture, near enough to the head-master's style to excite irreverent laughter. They listened for his step upon the stair, however, and when he entered the room they might have been taken for a synod discussing a Revised Edition by the extreme gravity of their demeanour.

"We must interrupt our studies for a short time, I am sorry to say," observed Dr Jolliffe. "I wish you to assemble at once, but without noise, in the schools. And, Probyn, run round to the other class-rooms, and tell the masters, with my compliments, that I wish their classes also to go there at once, and arrange themselves in their proper places, as on Examination Days."

The "Schools" was a large room which held all Weston; but the college was liberal in the matter of accommodation, and only three classes were habitually held in it, that so the hubbub of voices might not be inconvenient. For some persons are so constituted that when you seek to instruct them in Greek, they take an intense interest in mathematics, if treated upon within their hearing, and vice versa. But every class had its appointed place in the schools, all the same, and in a few minutes after the summons had gone forth, the boys, not quite broken- hearted at having to shut up their books, were reassembled in the large room, wondering what on earth had happened to cause such an unparalleled infraction of the daily routine. One sanguine youth suggested that they were to have an extra half-holiday in consequence of the fine condition of the ice, and he had many converts to his opinion; but there were many other theories. Saurin alone formed a correct guess at the real matter in hand, conscience prompting him.

No sooner were all settled in their places than the head-master came in accompanied by Lord Woodruff, who was known to most present by sight, and curiosity became almost painful.

"It is he who has begged us the half-holiday," whispered the prophet of good to his neighbour. "Shall we give him a cheer?"

"Better wait to make certain first," replied his more prudent auditor.

Next the roll was called, and when all had answered to their names Dr Jolliffe announced that their visitor had something serious to say to them; and then Lord Woodruff got up.

"No doubt some of your fathers are preservers of game for sporting purposes," he said, "and you all know what it means. I preserve game in this neighbourhood; and last night one of my keepers was going home through a wood where there are a good many pheasants, for it has not been disturbed this year, when he met two persons. They may not have been poachers, but poaching was certainly going on last night, for the guns were heard, and the man naturally concluded that they were trespassing in pursuit of game, for why else should they be there at that hour of the night. And so, as was clearly his duty, he endeavoured to secure one of them. But just as he had succeeded in doing so, he was struck down from behind with some weapon which has inflicted serious injuries upon him. He has recovered his senses, and laid an information that the person he seized was a Weston boy."

There was a murmur and a movement throughout the assembly at this sensational announcement. Saurin, who felt that he was very pale, muttered, "Absurd!" and strove to assume a look of incredulous amusement.

"Now, boys, listen to me. I take a great interest in Weston College, and should be sorry to see any disgrace brought upon it. And indeed it would be very painful to me that any one of you should have his future prospects blighted on first entering into life, for what I am willing to look upon as a thoughtless freak. But when the matter is once put into the hands of the police I shall have no further power to shield anyone, and if they trace the boy who was in that wood last night, which, mind you, they will probably do, safe as he may think himself, he will have to stand his trial in a court of justice. But now, I will give him a fair chance. If he will stand forward and confess that he was present on the occasion I allude to, and will say who the ruffian was that struck the blow, for of complicity in such an act I do not for a moment suspect him, I promise that he shall not be himself proceeded against in any way."

There was a pause of a full minute, during which there was dead silence; no one moved.

"What!" continued Lord Woodruff; "were you all in your beds at eleven o'clock last night? Was there no one out of college unbeknown to the authorities?"

He looked slowly round as he spoke, and it seemed to Buller that his eyes rested upon him. Though he knew nothing of this poaching business, he was certainly out, and perhaps Dr Jolliffe had told Lord Woodruff so, and this was a trap to see if he would own to it, and if he did not, they might suspect him of the other thing. He half rose, and sat down again, hesitating.

"Ah!" said Lord Woodruff, catching sight of the movement; "what is it, my lad? speak up, don't be afraid."

"I was certainly out of the college last night," said Buller, getting on to his feet, "but I was not near any wood, and I did not meet any man, or see or hear any struggling or fighting."

"It has nothing to do with this case, my lord," interposed the doctor. "This boy went late to the gravel-pits to skate, and was seen by one of the masters. It was a breach of the regulations, for which he will be punished, but nothing more serious."

"Oh! if he was seen skating by one of the masters that is enough. Might I speak to the gentleman?"

"Certainly."

And Mr Rabbits was called forward and introduced.

"Oh! Mr Rabbits, you actually saw this boy skating last night, did you?"

"No, not exactly. He was getting in again at his window when I surprised him?"

"May I ask at what time?"

"About half-past twelve."

"And how, if you did not see him, do you know that he was out skating?"

"He said so," replied Mr Rabbits innocently.

"And his word is the only evidence you have that he was not elsewhere?"

Mr Rabbits was obliged to confess that it was.

"Buller! come here," cried the doctor. "Now, did anyone see you at the gravel-pits, or going there, or coming back?"

"No, sir."

"Think well, because you may be suspected of having gone in an exactly opposite direction. If any friend was with you I am certain that he would be glad to give himself up to get you out of a really serious scrape. Shall I put it to the boys, my lord?"

"It is of no use, sir," said Buller. "I was quite alone, just as I told you, and no one knew I was out. I did not think of it myself till a few minutes before, when I found the bar loose. And I did not open my door even. And I saw no one, going or returning, till Mr Rabbits lit his chemical as I was getting in at the window."

"It is very painful to—ah—to seem to doubt your word, in short," said Lord Woodruff with hesitation, for he was a gentleman, and Tom's manner struck him as remarkably open and straightforward. "But you know it is impossible to accept anyone's unsupported evidence in his own favour, and I really wish that you could produce some one to corroborate your rather unlikely story. Assuming for a moment that you were in the company of poachers for a bit of fun last night, and that you saw something of this affray, and being caught as you got home, were frightened into accounting for your being out at so late an hour by this story of going skating in the moonlight; I say, assuming all this, I appeal to you to save yourself from serious consequences, and to forward the ends of justice by telling anything you know which may put us on the traces of the fellow who has injured my poor gamekeeper. A fellow who would come behind and strike a cowardly blow like that, trying to murder or maim a man who was simply doing his duty, does not deserve that you should shield him. Come, will you not denounce him?"

"But how can I tell about things of which I have no knowledge whatever?" cried Buller, who was getting vexed as well as bewildered. "What I have said is the exact truth, and if it does not suit you I cannot help it. Believe me or not, as you like, there is no good in my going on repeating my words."

"I cannot accept the responsibility of taking your bare word in such a matter," said Lord Woodruff, more stiffly, for Tom's tone had offended him; "a magistrate may do so. Of course I shall not adjudicate in my own case," he added, turning to Dr Jolliffe. "Mr Elliot is the next nearest magistrate, and I shall apply for a warrant against this youth to him."

Tom Buller experienced a rather sudden change of sensation in a short period. A quarter of an hour ago he felt like a culprit, now his heart swelled with the indignation of a hero and a martyr. To be accused of poaching, and asked to betray a supposed accomplice in what might prove a murder, just because he happened to be out after ten one night, was rather too strong, and Tom's back was up.

"You had better go to your room, Buller, and wait there till you hear further," said Dr Jolliffe, not unkindly.

To tell the truth the doctor was a good deal ruffled by this accusation, brought, as it seemed to him, on very insufficient grounds, against some member of the school. But he was determined to be as cool and quiet about it as possible, and not to give any one a chance of saying that he had obstructed the ends of justice. For if he took the highly indignant line, and it were proved after all that one of his boys was involved in the scrape, how foolish he would look!

"And you really mean to have this boy up before Mr Elliot on a charge of poaching?" he asked.

"What else can I do?" said Lord Woodruff. "His own obstinacy in refusing to tell what he knows is to blame."

"But supposing that he really knows nothing, how can he tell it? I know the boy well, and he is remarkably truthful and straightforward. Intensely interested, too, in the studies and sports of his school, and the very last to seek low company or get into a scrape of this kind."

Lord Woodruff smiled and shook his head.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.

Have you ever stood near a bee-hive when something unusual was going on inside? When a swarm was meditated, or you had cut off the communication with a super which you meant to take? Just such a buzz and murmur as then arises might have been heard in Weston court-yard when the boys poured out from the schools, only increased so much in volume as the human vocal organs are more powerful than the apiarian. And surely not without cause, for the scene which had just been enacted, without any rehearsal, for their benefit was simply astounding.

"Fancy Tom Buller the chief of a gang of poachers!" cried Saurin. "By Jove, I did not think it was in him, and fairly confess that I have not done him justice. He is a dark horse and no mistake."

"Why, you don't for a moment suppose that there is anything in it, do you?" asked Robarts, who heard him.

"I don't know, I'm sure," replied Saurin; "perhaps not. Awful liars those keeper chaps, no doubt. We shall know all about it in time, I suppose."

"It would not be bad fun if one got a fair price for the game one took," said Griffiths. "But the risk and difficulty of selling it would be so great that one would be certain to be robbed."

"What an ass Tom Bowling was to give himself up; it would have been all right if he had sat still."

"I don't know that. He had already been caught breaking out of college, don't you see, and they would have been certain to put this and that together."

"Who would?"

"Old Jolliffe."

"Not a bit of it. I twigged his face when Buller stood up, and he looked as vexed as possible. He'd never have told."

"I am not sure of that, and I think Buller was right not to risk it."

"Fussy old chap, Lord Woodruff!"

"Not a bad sort altogether, I believe, if you rub him the right way."

"No more am I; give me everything I want, and never thwart me, and I am the easiest fellow to live with in the world."

That is a sample of the way the matter was discussed and commented upon. But the most astonished of the whole school, and the only one who could not trust himself to make any remark at all in public, was Edwards. For the second time that day he had to watch his opportunity for a private conference with Saurin, and when he found it he opened on him eagerly.

"What a chap you are! And so you had a regular fight with keepers, and nearly did for one; and all you said this morning was that the whole thing was a failure and a sell. And even when we talked about gamekeepers catching poachers, and the poachers resisting, you kept it all dark."

"Why, it was a serious thing to talk about, you see," said Saurin.

"Well, I think you might have trusted me at all events," replied Edwards somewhat reproachfully.

"Trust you! My dear fellow I would trust you with my life," said Saurin. "But I thought it better to keep Marriner's attack on this keeper secret for your sake. There was sure to be a row, and in case of the inquiry coming in this direction, and your being questioned, it would be so much jollier for you to be able to say that you knew nothing about it. Whereas, if I had entered into all the details, it would have bothered you. For, to tell the truth, I feared the man was killed; now he is not hurt much, I don't care."

"They would not have got anything out of me," said Edwards.

"Perhaps not," replied Saurin. "But those lawyers are awful fellows when they get you into the witness-box, and make you say pretty nearly what they like. I had much rather have nothing to tell them myself if I were to be put in such a position, and I thought you would feel the same."

"You are right, so I do," said Edwards. "What a fellow you are, Saurin, you think of everything!"

"It is different, now that they have got hold of that ass, Buller; what a joke it all is, isn't it?"

"Yes," replied Edwards, in a tone of hesitation, however, as if he did not quite see the humour of it. "Rather rough upon Buller, though, don't you think?"

"Not a bit of it; he has got off his flogging."

"But suppose he comes in for something worse?"

"How should he? They cannot prove that he was in the coppice when he was about three miles in the opposite direction, you know. Now, if I were once suspected, they would find out that I constantly went to Slam's, who finds agents to sell the game for all the poachers round, and some of the keepers too, if the truth were known, and that I had been seen in Marriner's company; who is considered to make a regular income out of Lord Woodruff's pheasants, and they would have some grounds to go upon. But Buller is all right."

But though he spoke like this to quiet Edwards, Saurin did not care whether Buller got into serious trouble or not. He was a friend of Crawley's, had seconded him in the fight, and given him advice which contributed as much as anything else to Saurin's defeat. If he were expelled and sent to prison it would not break his (Saurin's) heart. The only fear was that if Edwards blabbed—and he was so weak that he could not be absolutely trusted—fellows would think it horribly mean to let Buller be punished unjustly, for what he himself had done. And on this account, and this account only, he hoped that Buller would get off.

Mr Elliot, the magistrate, lived at Penredding, the village where Mr Rabbits had gone to lecture, and thither Tom Buller was driven in a close fly, the doctor accompanying him. Lord Woodruff, who had come to Weston on horseback, rode over separately. Mr Elliot was a man of good common sense, though his opinions were not quite so weighty as his person, which declined to rise in one scale when fifteen stone was in the other. He was a just man also, though perhaps he was less dilatory in attending to the wishes of a member of one of the great county families than he might be in the case of a mere nobody. If a rich man and a poor one had a dispute, he considered that the presumption was in favour of the former, but he did not allow this prejudice to influence him one iota in the teeth of direct evidence.

Just after the fly had left Weston some snow flakes began to fall. "Ah!" thought Tom, "it may snow as hard as it pleases now. I have had a good turn at any rate. I was not able to do the outside edge when the frost set in, and now I can cut an eight. I wish, though, I could keep my balance in the second curl of those threes. I must practise going backwards, and stick to that next time I have a chance."

Dr Jolliffe, who saw that he was absorbed in reflection, thought that he was dwelling upon the serious nature of the position, in which he found himself, and would have been amused if he could have read the real subject of his meditations. But he could not do that, so he read the proof-sheets of his new treatise on the digamma. The snow fell thicker, and by the time they reached Penredding the country was covered with a white sheet.

Mr Elliot, who had been warned of their coming, was ready to receive them, and Lord Woodruff came forward with an inspector of rural police, and told his story, which was written down by a clerk and read over. Then the whole party set out on their travels again and drove to the cottage of the wounded gamekeeper, where they were received by a young woman, who had been crying her eyes red, and to the folds of whose dress two little children clung, hiding their faces therein, but stealing shy glances now and then at the quality, and the awful representative of the law, who had come to visit them.

"The doctor has told us that it would do your husband no harm to say before me what he has already told Lord Woodruff," said Mr Elliot to her. "I was rejoiced to hear that he is doing so well. It was a most shameful, brutal, and cowardly attack, and we are most anxious that the offender should be brought to justice."

"Yes, sir," said the woman. "Doctor thinks it may quiet him like to have his dispositions took, and then he may go to sleep."

"Exactly. Will you be so kind as to tell him that we are here?"

She pushed the children into an inner room, ran up-stairs, and presently reappeared, asking them to walk up. Bradley was in bed, propped with pillows. A handkerchief was tied round his head, and his face was pale from loss of blood. Either from that cause, or on account of the shock to the nervous system, he was also very weak.

"How do you feel now, Bradley?" asked Lord Woodruff gently, going to the bed-head.

"Rayther queer as yet, my lord," was the reply.

"No doubt. But you have a good hard head, and there is nothing serious the matter, the doctor says. But it may be some days before it will be prudent for you to go out, so, as we want to get on the traces of the fellow who struck you at once, Mr Elliot has kindly come over to take your deposition here, instead of waiting till you were fit to go to Penredding."

When Tom Buller saw the woman and children, and then afterwards their strong bread-earner reduced to such a condition, he indeed felt heartily glad that there was no truth in the accusation against him. To have had any part in bringing about such a scene of family distress would have been too much for him.

The wounded man told his story clearly enough, and then Tom Buller was told to stand in the light where he could see him clearly.

"Noa," said the wounded man, "I could not say who it wor. There was a bright moon, but the boy was in the shadow, and I got no clear look at his face; but he wor one of the Weston young gentlemen, I am sartin of that. A bit bigger than him, I should say, but I couldn't say for sure. He wor a strong un, I know that."

When all this was written down, back they went to Penredding again, slower now, for the snow was getting deep, and assembled once more in Mr Elliot's study, where Buller was warned against criminating himself, and then allowed to speak. He had been out that night, but in a contrary direction, skating; no one had seen him, and he had no witnesses.

"There is hardly any case," said Mr Elliot. "The boy owns that he was out the night of the assault, and the gamekeeper swears he was struggling with a boy, whom he thinks was rather bigger. But there are no marks of any struggle having taken place upon the lad. There may be reason for suspicion, but nothing more."

"Exactly; and I do not ask for a committal, but only for a remand, to give the police an opportunity of collecting further evidence," said Lord Woodruff.

"And I do not oppose the remand," said Dr Jolliffe. "I am perfectly convinced of the boy's complete innocence; but in his interest I should like the matter to be gone into further, now the accusation has once been made."

"Very good; this day week, then. And I will take your bail for his appearance, Dr Jolliffe."

And it being so arranged, everybody went home through the snow; and the police took up a wrong scent altogether, that, namely, of the gang that had been taking game in another part of the preserves earlier in the night, and to which it was somewhat naturally supposed the other two belonged. And one of them was traced, and a reward, together with impunity, was offered to him if he would turn queen's evidence, and say who had struck down the keeper. But the man, of course, could tell nothing about it.

As for Tom Buller, he went back to his lessons as usual, and was a hero. It was something novel to have a fellow out of prison on bail at Weston, and the boys racked their brains for some evidence in his favour. His flogging was put off sine die, for the doctor felt it unjust to deal with his case scholastically while the question of his punishment by the laws of the country was still pending. The only boy who thought of anything practical was Smith, "Old Algebra," as they called him. He went up privately to Mr Rabbits one day and said, "I beg your pardon, sir, but might I speak to you for a moment?"

"Certainly, Smith," said Mr Rabbits; "what is it?"

"When you saw Buller getting in at the window by the light of your magnesium wire, did you notice his skates?"

"Bless me!" cried Mr Rabbits; "now you mention it, I think—nay, I am sure I did. They were hanging round his neck. To be sure; why, that tends to corroborate his assertion that he went skating."

"Will it not be enough to clear him, sir?"

"Well, not quite, I fear. You see, they may say that he might have started to go skating, and met with this poacher, and gone off with him out of curiosity. But still it is worth something, and I shall make a point of appearing before the magistrate and giving evidence on the point. It was a very good idea of yours—very."

When the snow ceased, the boys took brooms with them to the gravel-pits and cleared a space, which grew larger every time they went to skate on it, some of the hangers-on of the school helping forward the work, for what coppers and sixpences they could pick up. But they were lazy, loafing dogs, and the boys did most of it for themselves. Buller did not go to the ice any more, however; though not expressly forbidden, he thought the doctor would not like it; it would look as if he did not take his position seriously enough. It was for the sake of skating that he had broken out at night and got into this scrape, and so now he would deny himself.

The week passed, and Buller again went over with Dr Jolliffe to Mr Elliot's house at Penredding, Mr Rabbits this time accompanying him. The frost still held, and the boys went skating.

I have said that there was no recognised system of fagging at Weston; yet, when a fellow in the head-master's class told a boy in the lowest form to do anything, why, it so happened that he generally did it. So, when Crawley observed:

"There's a beautiful bit of smooth ice under here. I say, you two, Penryhn and Simmonds, suppose you take those brooms and clear a bit of it."

Penryhn and Simmonds acted on the suggestion. After clearing some twenty square yards of beautiful black ice, Simmonds turned up something hard, which he picked up and invoked Jupiter.

"What is it?" asked Penryhn.

"Findings, keepings," responded Simmonds.

"Let's look," said Penryhn. "Why, that is Buller's knife!"

"Ah, ah! how do you know that?"

"Why, it has a punch in it; he lent it me to punch a hole in my strap when we got home from skating one day. It has his name engraved upon it somewhere; there it is, look, on that plate—'T. Buller'."

"Like my luck!" sighed Simmonds; "I never found anything yet but what it belonged to some other fellow."

"What was that you said, Penryhn, about Buller lending you his knife?" asked Crawley, who was cutting threes on the new bit of ice. "What day was it?"

"The day before the snow; yesterday week, that was."

"What time?"

"In the evening, just before supper, when I was cleaning up my skates for next day. By Jove! I see what you are driving at. Buller has not been any day since, so he must have dropped it when he came that night."

"Of course. Now, you and Simmonds run back to school, find Cookson, who is senior master now the doctor's out, ask leave to go over to Penredding, and cut there as hard as you can split."

The pair were off before he could finish his sentence.

The party assembled in Mr Elliot's library was the same as on the week previously, with the addition of a detective, who had detected nothing, and Mr Rabbits, who now testified that he saw skates hanging round Buller's neck when he was getting in at the window. The question was concerning a further remand, for the magistrate firmly refused to commit the boy for trial on the evidence before them. "I grant that it is suspicious; he was out late at night when he had no business to be, and that same night a Weston boy was, almost to a certainty, seized by Bradley in the coppice. But if one boy could get out another might, and now it is proved that this one had his skates with him at the time. No jury would convict on such evidence." He did not even like granting a remand, but neither did he like to stand out too strongly against the wishes of Lord Woodruff.

At this juncture voices were heard outside, and presently a constable opened the door and said that two young gentlemen from Weston had something to say.

"Found the real culprit, perhaps," muttered Lord Woodruff.

"Bring them in," said the magistrate, and Simmonds and Penryhn entered, hot, excited, and still panting for breath.

"Please, sir, we have leave from Mr Cookson, and I have found Tom Bowling—I mean Buller's knife," said the former, addressing Dr Jolliffe, who waved his hand towards Mr Elliot in silence, and frowned.

"Wait a bit, my lad, do not be flurried," said the magistrate; "stand there. Let him be sworn," he added to the clerk. And Simmonds took his first legitimate oath.

Then he told the simple story which we know. And when he had done Penryhn kissed the book in his turn and completed the chain of evidence. It was really quite sufficiently clear, that unless yet another boy had got out, and gone skating on the gravel-pits that night, taking Buller's knife with him and losing it, that he himself had been there as he said; and therefore that he was not in the coppice, two miles on the other side of Weston. Lord Woodruff himself was convinced, and Buller was at once discharged, everybody shaking hands with him.

"And, Buller," said Dr Jolliffe as they left the house, "as I hope that the anxiety you have been subjected to by your own unlawful action will prove sufficient punishment, I shall not take any further notice of your breaking out that night. Let it be a lesson to you, that you cannot engage in what is unlawful without assuming something which is common to all criminals, and running the risk of being mixed up with them." Which was a beautifully mild preachee to take the place of floggee.

Tom Bowling received quite an ovation next day, and did not know what to do with his popularity. He was ready enough to skate now, but a thaw came, and there was no other chance afforded that term.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

A HOLIDAY INVITATION.

A week before the Christmas holidays a boy named Gould came up to Crawley and said, "I wish you would come and stay with me a week or so this Christmas at my father's place in Suffolk, Nugget Towers. The best of the shooting is over, the partridges being very wild by now, and it is not a pheasant country, as there are no woods to speak of. But there are a good many snipe down towards the river, so you had better bring your gun. Besides we will have a day's partridge driving, for there are plenty, if you could only get at them. And there is a pack of foxhounds that meets about ten miles off once a week at least, and some harriers close by. I generally go out with the harriers. We can give you a mount; you do not ride above twelve stone I should say, do you?"

"No, I should think not, but I have not been weighed lately," replied Crawley. "You are very kind, I am sure, but does your father know? Perhaps he has made arrangements to fill his house."

"Oh no! it is all right. My father does not bother his head about such things; he is perpetually going to London, and thinking of business. But my mother and sisters want you to come, and have told me to ask you."

"I am much obliged to them, they are very good. And I should like it very much," said Crawley, somewhat more hesitatingly than it was his wont to speak.

For this invitation was rather a hot coal on his head. Gould had courted his acquaintance and he had rather snubbed him, not liking him particularly. He was rich, which mattered to nobody, but he gave himself airs on the strength of it, and that did. There are few things more irritating than to hear anyone perpetually bragging of his money, and if you happen to be poor yourself I do not think that it helps you to sit and listen more patiently. And then Gould was an injudicious flatterer; he made the flattered fellow uncomfortable. It is a nice thing, flattery, and causes one to feel good all over, if it is delicately applied with a camel's-hair brush, as it were. But Gould laid it on with a trowel. He only courted success; if anyone were down he would be the first to spurn him.

Now, Crawley was undoubtedly the boy held in greatest estimation in the school: captain and treasurer of the cricket and football clubs, good- looking, pleasant in manners, open, generous, clever at lessons, he was a special favourite with masters and boys, and therefore Gould burnt his incense before him. For to be Crawley's chum was to gain a certain amount of consideration in the school, and Gould did not mind shining with a reflected light. He was not like Saurin in that respect, whose egotism saved him at least from being a toad-eater. Gould was vain enough, but his vanity was of a different kind. But hitherto all his efforts had been in vain, and Crawley had rather snubbed him. This had not prevented Gould from talking about him, exaggerating his merits, and bragging about his intimacy with him at home. It was always "my friend Crawley and I" did this, that, and the other. So that Mrs Gould wrote to him one day asking whether he would not like his inseparable to come and stay with him during the holidays; and Clarissa Gould added a postscript to the effect that as he was so clever he would be of great use to them in their private theatricals.

Crawley was one boy amongst a rather large family of girls; the father was dead, and the mother, though able to live in ordinary comfort, was far from rich. She could not indulge in carriages and horses, or men- servants, for example, and she lived near London for the sake of her daughters' education. So that Crawley had never had an opportunity of gaining proficiency in those sports which cannot be indulged in without a good deal of expenditure, and he looked upon hunting and shooting as sublime delights far out of his reach at present, though perhaps he might attain to them by working very hard, some day. His ambition was to enter the army, not that he thought drill any particular fun, or desired the destruction of his fellow-creatures, or ever indulged in dreams of medals, bars, triumphal arches, and the thanks of parliament, but simply because he might get to India, stick pigs, and shoot tigers. Shooting! hunting! Gould's words made his nerves tingle from head to foot with excitement. And he had thought the fellow who now offered him a taste of such pleasures a muff, a bore, a sycophant, and done his best to avoid him! How wrong it is to have prejudices!

"Well, then, when will you come?" asked Gould.

"As soon as it is convenient to have me after Christmas," replied Crawley. "I must spend the Christmas week at home, you know; but then I am free. I should tell you, though, that I cannot shoot or ride a little bit. I have never had any practice, and you will find me an awful duffer."

"All right; fellows always say that."

"Yes, I know they do sometimes, in mock modesty. But in my case it's a fact, and I warn you, that I may not spoil your fun."

"My dear fellow," said Gould, "you could not do that unless your want of skill were catching. I should be glad if I could put you up to a wrinkle or two."

"On those terms, then, I shall be very glad to come."

"That is all right."

What a happy stroke for Gould! he had come to call Crawley "my dear fellow" already.

The idea of his new friend putting him up to a "wrinkle or two" rather tickled Crawley. Gould was so poor a performer at cricket, fives, lawn- tennis, football everything which required a ready hand, a quick eye, and firm nerves—that Crawley could not imagine his beating him even with the advantage of previous knowledge. Yet he had not exaggerated his own deficiencies. Bring his gun, indeed! The only gun he had to bring was a single-barrelled muzzle-loader which had belonged to his father. With this he had shot water-rats, sparrows, and, on one occasion when they were very numerous, fieldfares; but not flying—he had never attempted that. No; he had stalked his small bird till he got within thirty yards of the bough where it was perched, and taken a steady pot-shot. As for riding, when a very little boy during his father's lifetime he had had a pony; and two or three times since, when staying at watering-places in the summer, he had mounted a hired hack. So that his ideas of sport were gathered entirely from books and pictures, to which, when they treated of that subject, he was devotedly attached. What happy hours he had spent poring over Jorrock's Hunts, Mr Sponge's Sporting Tour, and the works of the Old Shekarry! When he went to a picture-gallery he was listless until he came upon some representation of moving adventure by flood or field, and then the rest of the party could hardly drag him away. He had a little collection of coloured prints in his room at home, gathered at various times, and highly esteemed by him, which conveyed a somewhat exaggerated idea of equine powers. For in one a horse was clearing a stream about the width of the Thames at Reading, and in another an animal of probably the same breed was flying a solid stone wall quite ten feet high. Now he was to have a little taste of these often-dreamed-of joys, and the idea absorbed his thoughts and made him restless at night.

To do him justice, he did not think about it on first meeting his mother and sisters when he went home; but on the second day of his return the invitation and all it promised came back to him, and he broached the matter to Mrs Crawley at breakfast-time. "Please, Mother, I have had an invitation to spend a week with a school-fellow after Christmas."

"Oh, and who is he?" asked Mrs Crawley.

"A chap named Gould; they are awfully rich people—just the sort I ought to know, you know. They live in Suffolk at a place called Nugget Towers."

"And what sort of boy is he? Because, of course, Vincent, we must ask him here in the summer in return."

"Well, he is always very civil to me, and I don't know any harm of him; but he is not good at games and that, and not much fun to talk to—so I have never been quite so thick with him as he wished. That makes it all the more civil of him. He must have talked about me at home, for his mother sent the invitation."

"Well, Vincent, I am glad you spoke of it at once, for we must make haste to look over your linen, which generally comes home in a terrible state. You had better go to-day to the tailor and get measured for your dress clothes; but you were to have had them for Christmas any way, so that will be nothing extra."

For Crawley, it must be mentioned, had arrived at an age and height when a tail-coat was a necessary garment if he went anywhere of an evening.

"No, Mother," he said, "except a pair of porpoise-hide boots and some leggings; and could I have a gun, do you think? There will be some shooting, you know."

"A gun, Vincent! Will not the one you have already do?"

"Oh, no, Mother—it is so old and out of date, I should be laughed at. I might just as well take an arquebus or a crossbow."

"Is not a gun a very expensive thing?"

"Why, you may make it so, of course; but I don't want that. I have been studying the Field, and I can get a good central-fire breech-loader for L10."

"Ten pounds is a good deal," said Mrs Crawley thoughtfully; "but I suppose you must have a gun if you want one. Only remember, Vincent, that I am not rich, and your education and other expenses are very heavy. And there are your sisters to be thought of—what with their dresses and their music, drawing and dancing, I have to be very careful."

"Oh, of course, Mother," said Crawley, going round and kissing her; "what a dear you are!"

And his heart smote him as he thought of certain "ticks" he owed at school, and had not yet had the courage to confess to. For Vincent Crawley, though he had many good qualities, was by no means perfect. He was rather spoiled by indulgence at home and popularity at school, and thought a good deal too much of himself for one thing, and for another he was inclined to be thoughtless and extravagant in money matters. It is excellent to be generous with money which is absolutely our own; but to seek to get the credit for generosity at other people's expense is quite another, and not at all an admirable thing. Crawley knew this in theory, but practically, if he wanted anything and could get it, he had it; and if a friend had a longing for ices, strawberry mess, oyster- patties, or any other school luxury, he would treat him, running up a score if he had not the cash in his pocket to pay with. And if there was generosity in this impulse, I fear that there was ostentation too. It added to his popularity, and popularity had become as the air he breathed. For the only real test of generosity is self-denial. If you go without something you really want in order to oblige someone else, that is genuine, admirable, and somewhat rare. But if you have everything you want and forego nothing whatever by conferring a favour, you may show good nature, careless indifference to the value of money, or a pleasant sense of patronage, but not necessarily true generosity. That may be the spirit which dictates your conduct, but the act does not prove it.

Now, in Crawley's case, his mother was the only one who had to exercise self-denial. But he never thought of that. He prided himself on being a very generous fellow, and so he was by nature, but not so much so as he took credit for, and he was growing more selfish than otherwise; which was a pity. He went up to London, and was measured for his dress clothes, and got his boots and gaiters, and then sought out and found the gun-shop, mentioned in the Field, and instead of pretending to be knowing about firearms, wisely told the shopman why he came to him, and that he trusted him entirely, being quite unable to judge for himself, which made the man take particular pains to select him a good one, and show him how to judge if the stock suited him; namely, by fixing his eyes on an object, and bringing the gun sharply up to his shoulder. Then closing the left eye, and looking along the barrel with the right, to see whether the sight was on the object. If he had to raise or lower the muzzle to obtain that result, it was obvious that it did not come up right for him. At length he got one which suited him exactly, and he was shown the mechanism by which the breeches were opened and closed, and learned how to take it to pieces, put it together again, clean it, and oil it.

Finally he bought it, together with a hundred cartridges, fifty being loaded with snipe-shot, and fifty with number five; all on the gunmaker's recommendation, to whom he explained the kind of shooting he expected to have. He would not let it be sent home for him, but took it off himself.

"You only hold it straight, sir, and I'll guarantee the gun will kill well enough," said the maker as he left.

What a charm there is in a new bat, a new gun, a new fly-rod, a new racket; how one longs for an opportunity to try it! Really it is often a consolation to me to think that very rich people lose all that. When everything is so easily obtained, nothing is of any value. Crawley at any rate was delighted with his new possession. He took it to pieces and put it together again for the benefit of every member of the family, besides a good many times for his own private delectation, and practised aiming drill and position drill by the hour together, without knowing that there were any such military exercises.

The frost set in again, however, a week before Christmas, and when the ice bore, he had to leave his new toy alone, for besides practising himself, his sisters required tuition in the art of skating. And you must not think that he found the time hang heavy to the day of his departure; he was too fresh home, and of too genial a disposition for that, besides which it was Christmas time. But he did look forward with pleasurable excitement to his visit, for all that.

The day came at length, and he started for Barnsbury, snugly ensconsed in a first-class carriage, with wraps, and comic papers, and a story by Manville Fenn with a thrilling picture on the cover, and his beloved gun in the rack over his head. His mother had suggested travelling second- class, but he durst not, for fear someone should meet him at the station. He was right in that expectation, for when the train stopped at Barnsbury he saw Gould and a man in livery waiting for him on the platform.

"All right! how are you, old fellow?" said Gould, shaking him by the hand. "How good of you to come! No hunting in such a frost as this, so I thought I would drive over myself."

Crawley said something civil, and the groom touched his hat and asked what luggage he had, taking his gun-case from him as he spoke.

"It will be brought after us in the tax-cart," said Gould, "which has come over too. I hate a lot of luggage in the trap I am driving, don't you? Leave it to William and come along; it will be all right;" and he led the way out of the station, where there was a dog-cart with another liveried servant on the seat, and a handsome nag in the shafts, waiting at the door.

The man jumped down and touched his hat; Crawley got in; Gould gathered up the reins, sat beside him, and started, the man springing up behind as they moved off, and balancing himself, with folded arms, as smart and natty as you please.

Crawley wondered more and more that he had never perceived any superiority in Gould; surely he must be very blind.

"It is only half-an-hour's drive, behind an animal like this," said his new friend. "The frost is giving, so we may have a run with the harriers in a few days. In the meantime there are a good many snipe. We will have a crack at them to-morrow morning, if you like."

"I should like very much," replied Crawley.

The country they were driving through was not very picturesque, as it wanted wood, a strange want for Suffolk; but they soon came to a lodge with a gate, opened for them by a curtseying woman, and admitting them to a park where there were trees, and fine ones, though standing about by themselves, not grouped together. They spun along through this up to a large white house with a colonnade in front, and a terrace, with urns for flowers and statues all along it, looking bare and cheerless enough at this time of year. But the hall made amends when they entered it, for it was warm, luxurious, and bright enough for a sitting-room. Two footmen in plush and with slightly powdered hair inhabited it, and one of them helped Crawley to get rid of his wraps, and then Gould led the way to the drawing-room, where Mrs Gould and three daughters were drinking tea and eating muffins and things, for fear they should have too good appetites for dinner, I suppose, and introduced him.

Crawley shook several hands and accepted a cup of tea, and sat down on a very low and very soft seat, which he could have passed the night in luxuriously if beds had run short, and felt as awkward as you please. He always was shy in ladies' society. Not in that of his sisters, of course; he patronised them and made them fag for him. It was certainly their own fault if they did not like it, for they had taught him. But they did like it, he being one of his sort, and not often at home, and in return he waltzed with them, which was a bore, and gave them easy service at lawn-tennis, which made him slow, and was generally an amiable young Turk.

But the Misses Gould did not look like being fagged, rather the reverse. They were all grown up, at least to look at, though one was not yet "out." Clarissa, the next, a girl of eighteen, came and sat down by him and talked to him, for which he felt very grateful, for he was beginning to wish the floor to open and let him through. At first, indeed, she talked of things he knew nothing about: balls, and levees, and the four- in-hand club, and the Orleans. But finding the service was too severe, and he could not send the ball back, she asked if he was fond of the theatre, and as he was, very, and had been to one a few nights before, he became more like himself, and showed some animation in his description of the piece he had seen, and the performers.

At this juncture a quiet-looking man out of livery came softly into the room, and asked him deferentially for his keys, as his luggage had arrived. Seizing the idea that he proposed to unpack for him, an operation he disliked, he gladly gave them up, wondering whether these rich people ever did anything for themselves at all.

"I see that you are great upon acting," said Miss Clarissa when the valet was gone, "and I am so glad! For we are getting up some private theatricals; you will take a part?"

"Why," said Crawley in some dismay, "I never yet tried to act myself; I am afraid I should spoil everything."

"Oh no! we have heard all about you from my brother, you know; you have a good memory, have you not?"

"I believe so; I have never found much difficulty in learning by heart."

"That is one good thing to begin with; we will soon see if you can act at all. Some of our friends are coming over to-morrow for rehearsal. We have agreed to try St. Cupid, or Dorothy's Fortune, and we want a 'Bellefleur.' You will take the part, will you not? I am to be 'Dorothy Budd.' You will not have so very much to do. Do you know the play?"

"No, unfortunately, and I—" Crawley began, meaning to back out; but Miss Clarissa cut him short.

"No matter," she said, "I will fetch you a copy," and she got up and returned presently with a little book. "You had better read it all through, and mark your parts with the tags. The tags, you know, are the last sentences of the speaker before you, to which you have to reply. You can learn some while you are dressing for dinner; that is a capital time. And I will give you a hint or two this evening in the billiard- room. You don't mind?"

What could Crawley say? He did mind, not bargaining for learning lessons in the holidays; but he could not show himself so uncivil a boor as to refuse. So he promised to do his best, and when the gong sounded, took his little book up into the bedroom with him.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

CRAWLEY IS TAKEN DOWN THREE PEGS.

"Good gracious!" A large fire was burning in the grate; an easy-chair was drawn up on one side of it; over the back of an ordinary one opposite a clean shirt was warming itself, with the studs inserted in the front and the wristbands. On the bed the dress clothes were neatly laid out; the patent-leather boots stood at attention on the hearth-rug; hot water steamed from a japanned jug on the wash-hand stand; two wax candles lit up the dressing-table; two more stood on another near the fire, which had also writing materials on it. The room could not have been prepared for a duchess, because a duchess would not wear a black coat and trousers; and besides, they were certainly his clothes.

Dressing took Crawley about ten minutes, and he had an hour for the operation. So he looked hurriedly through the play, and marked the parts allotted to Ensign Bellefleur. It did not seem very much, so he felt a little encouraged, and taking Miss Clarissa's advice, set the book open on the table and began learning what he would have to say, while going on with his toilet. He had a really surprisingly retentive memory, and picked up a good bit even in that little time.

He found Mr Gould in the drawing-room when he went down, and the old gentleman asked him after his progress in study, and what profession he intended to adopt, in a pompous and condescending way; but it was only a few sentences, for there were other gentlemen there, who came up and button-holed him seriously, and with whom he seemed to hold portentous conversation, politics, perhaps, or shares, or something of that kind. Then the ladies assembled, and the second gong boomed, and the people paired off. Crawley timidly offered his arm to Miss Clarissa, rather fearing he was doing wrong, and ought to go to someone else. But she took it all right; and he quoted from the play he had been studying:

"'Here we escape then. Come, cousin! nay, your lips were set for pearls and diamonds, and I'll not lose the promised treasure.'"

"'Well, good counsel is a gem,'" the young lady responded smartly. "'But, George, I fear me you'll never carry the jewel in your ears.' The quotation is not apt, though, for you evidently have carried my good counsel in your ears, and been learning your part already. How good of you!"

Here was a chance for Crawley to say something pretty; but he could not think of what it should be till afterwards.

If the ladies' society was a little thrown away upon him he appreciated the dinner, which was by far the most luxurious meal he had ever seen in his life. A table-d'hote at Scarborough had hitherto been his beau ideal of a feed, but that was not in the race with the Gould banquet. And the champagne; on the few occasions when he had had a chance of tasting that wine, he had got all he could and wanted more. But now his only care was not to take too much of it, lest it should get into his head.

"Are you studying your part?" asked his neighbour, for he had been silent for some time.

"No," he replied; "I was thinking that if your brother lives like this every day, he must find the fare rather unpalatable when he goes back to Weston."

"I believe he does," said Miss Clarissa laughing. "At least he writes home grumbling letters enough, and we have to send him hampers of good things—Perigord pies and that. Don't stop longer than you like," she added as the ladies rose. "Papa will go on talking about stupid things all night."

And shortly afterwards young Gould, who had taken his sister's place when she went, proposed that they should go to the billiard-room and knock the balls about. So they went and made a four-handed game with two of the girls. And then Miss Clarissa read over the scenes in which Crawley had to take part with her, and made him repeat what he had learned, with appropriate action. And he got partially over his shyness, and spent rather a pleasant evening, thanks, a little bit, I fancy, to a little vanity. His friend came to have a chat with him after they had gone up to their rooms, and when he left Crawley could not help thinking what a pity it was that his sister Clarissa had not been the boy and he the girl. She was such a much better sort of fellow for a friend; had more go, and was heartier. Before he finally turned in he read the part of Ensign Bellefleur over again, for he felt too much excited by the novelty of everything to sleep, if he went to bed. At last, however, reading the same words over repeatedly quieted his nerves, and he slept soundly till morning.

"You are still inclined to have a try for the snipe?" asked Gould at breakfast. "It is still thawing, and the ground will be very sloshy; I hope you have got thick boots."

"Yes, and if I hadn't I do not mind a little wet," replied Crawley. "But I can't find my gun anywhere."

"Oh, that is all right in the gun-room."

This was another new idea to Crawley, who previously thought that it was only ships in Her Majesty's navy, and not houses, that had gun-rooms. They visited it presently, and Crawley found his property taken out of its case, put together, and standing side by side with others in a glass cupboard. He took it down and left the house with his companion. On the terrace they found a keeper with the dogs, and started off for the marshy ground by the river.

"Put a few cartridges loose in your pocket," said Gould. "William will carry the rest."

The low-lying lands were intersected by deep trenches, which divided them into fields just as hedges would. These were now frozen over, but the ice was melting fast, and water stood on the top. Along them walked the two gunners, William the keeper following with Scamp, the retriever, in a leash; for Scamp would hunt about and put everything up far out of range.

"Look out, Crawley!" cried Gould, as a snipe flushed in front of him.

He would not have known it was a snipe unless Gould had told him, as it was the first he had ever seen alive. He tried to take aim at it, shutting the left eye as if he were shooting at a target with a rifle, which caused him to twiddle his gun about as if he were letting off a squib, for the bird darted about as though on purpose to dodge him. So he pulled one trigger, and then, quite by accident, for he did not know how to find it in his flurry, the other, and I don't suppose went within two yards of the snipe with either barrel. With a steadier flight, having now got well on the wing, it sailed within reach of Gould, who knocked it over.

"Wiped your eye, old fellow!" he cried triumphantly as Scamp came back with the bird in his mouth.

"Yes; I told you I was a duffer," replied Crawley, who took note that the best way was to wait for the bird to have done his zigzagging. So he steadied himself, and the next chance he had he did wait. But not a bit could he cover the bird with that little knob of a sight, and when the smoke cleared away he saw it careering like a kite with too light a tail in the distance. Gould also missed twice, and then shot one the moment it was off the ground, before the erratic course commenced.

"That looks the easiest dodge," thought Crawley, and the next shot he had he tried it with the first barrel, missed, waited till the snipe was flying more steadily and gave it the second barrel, missed again. He got quite hot, and felt sure the keeper was laughing at him, but that official only said:

"I'd put in a cartridge with bigger shot now; there's some duck, I think, in yon bit of rushes by the river."

They did as he advised, and they walked down to the spot. In went the spaniels, and out came a fine mallard, ten yards in front of Crawley, and sailing away from him as steady as a ship. He could cover this large evenly-flying mark as easily as if it were on a perch nearly, and when he pulled trigger the duck stopped in his flight, and fell with a heavy splash in the river, into which Scamp plunged as if it were midsummer, and presently brought the duck to land. Crawley felt the elation which always accompanies the first successful shot at a bird on the wing; at any rate he had killed something, and might do well yet when the strangeness wore off.

He had another chance at a duck a little while afterwards, but this time the bird flew across and not straight away from him, and as he held his gun still at the moment he got the sight on the duck and fired, of course, since the duck had not the politeness to stop too, the charge went about two yards behind it.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said William, "but if you takes aim like that you will never hit 'em; 'tain't possible. You must forget all about your gun, and only look at the bird, and pull the trigger the moment you gets a full sight of him. The gun will follow your eye of itself, natural."

"I know I ought to keep both eyes open," said Crawley, "but I forget."

"Well, that is best, to my thinking, though I have known some good shots too who always shut the left eye. But whether or no the chiefest thing is not to see that sight on your gun when you shoot, but only to look at the bird."

They went on to another snipe patch, and soon Crawley missed again.

"Never mind, sir," said William, "it's a knack, snipe-shooting is, and no one can catch it without practice. I've seen good partridge, aye, and rabbit shots, miss 'em time after time, and I've knowed good snipe- shots poor at anything else too."

At last, by trying to follow the keeper's directions, Crawley did hit a snipe as it was flushed, but it was his only one. They were much more plentiful than usual in that part, and lay like stones, so that they had plenty of shooting, and William groaned in spirit over the opportunity of sport that had been wasted on two boys. What a tip Sir Harry would have given him in his delight if he had come out with him on such a day!

Thirty-five cartridges had Crawley burned when they turned homewards in the afternoon, and the result was one duck, one snipe; if he had possessed a tail, how closely it would have been tucked between his legs! He hardly dared look the animals who had those appendages in the face; how they must have despised him! Gould, who was a bad shot, had bagged five couple, and patronised him insufferably. When they got home he found a warm foot-bath ready in his room, which was a most refreshing luxury, and having made himself presentable he went down to the drawing- room, where the neighbours who were going to act in the forthcoming play were assembled at afternoon tea, preparatory to the rehearsal. And presently they adjourned to the library and went through the play, a certain Mr Foljambe, to whom everybody paid implicit obedience, directing and instructing them.

Crawley knew his part, and paid attention to what he was told, and the great man considered that he would do, if he could only get over a certain shy awkwardness. And indeed it was a provoking thing to Clarissa Gould, that when they went through their scenes alone together he acted in a manner that really showed great promise, but if a third person were present he was not so good, and with every additional spectator the merit of his performance diminished. There was only one scene in which he managed completely to forget himself and become the person he represented, and that was where he crosses swords with the hero, and is disarmed. He could fence a little, and did not quite like playing at getting the worst of it when it was not certain that he ought to have done so; but still, the violent action, and the clash of steel helped him to get rid of that feeling that he was making a tom-fool of himself, which confused him when he had to make a lot of spoony speeches to the girl.

Mr Foljambe encouraged him with the assurance that being dressed for the part would give him confidence; in a strange dress, a false moustache, and a painted face, he would not know himself in the glass, and would feel that the spectators did not entirely recognise him either. It was necessary to make the best of him, for there was no other Ensign Bellefleur available.

The men of the day before had taken their departure, and were succeeded by a more lively lot, for there was to be a partridge drive and a big lunch on the morrow, and most of those who were to take part in it slept at Nugget Towers that night. So, instead of shares and companies, Mr Gould the father held forth upon agricultural prospects, the amount of game, and the immediate renewal of hunting, in consequence of the complete change in the weather.

"You ought to have had a good many snipe by the way, Gould," said one of the guests. "They are always found in those water meadows of yours at the end of a frost."

"My son and his young friend can tell you best about them," replied Mr Gould. "I believe they have been out after them to-day."

"Ah! and what sport had you?" asked the inquirer, turning to young Gould.

"Oh, I got five couple."

"And your friend?"

"I only shot one," said Crawley with an uneasy laugh.

"Come, I say, Lionel," said Clarissa Gould to her brother, "I am not going to have my cousin Bellefleur treated in this manner. You are a nice sort of host to leave your guest the worst of the shooting."

"He had as many shots as I had," said young Gould, whose desire of self- glorification smothered any soupcon of good taste which he might have acquired, "only he missed them all."

"Indeed, yes," said Crawley, concealing his sense of humiliation in the very best way; "why I fired two barrels at one snipe before Gould killed it for me. I am a perfect novice at all field sports."

"Ah!" observed the first inquirer, "I know I fired away a pound of lead before I touched a snipe when I first began. But what a lot of them there must have been if you killed five couple, Lionel."

"I do not think I should care for shooting if I were a man," said Clarissa to Crawley. "But hunting, now, I should be wild about. I hunt sometimes, but only with the harriers. Mama will not let me go out with the foxhounds, and they meet so far off that I cannot fall in with them by accident, for there is no cover near here. But the harriers are to go out the day after to-morrow, if the frost does not return, and I am looking forwards to a good gallop. Are you fond of hunting?"

"I know that I should be," replied Crawley, "but I do not own a horse, and never have a chance of it."

"Oh, well, we will mount you; I think Daisy will be quite up to your weight, Sir Robert certainly would, but Daisy is the nicest to ride."

After dinner there was music, and Crawley was asked if he could sing. There was no backing out, for young Gould had bragged about his friend's voice, which was indeed a good one though untrained. But he only sang Tubal Cain, Simon the Cellarer, and one or two others of that sort, of which the music was not forthcoming. At last, however, Julia Gould, who was the pianist, found John Peel, which he knew, and he found himself standing by that young lady, confused and shamefaced, trying to make his voice master a great lump there seemed to be in his throat. To make it worse the hubbub of voices ceased at the first notes, though it had swelled the louder during previous performances. All the men began marking the time with heads and hands, and when the chorus came first one and then another joined in, and it ended in a full burst of sound, just as when Crawley sung it at school. This gave him confidence, and he sang the second and remaining verses with spirit, the choruses swelling louder and louder, and when he finished there was much hand- clapping. So at last he had a gleam of success, and Lionel Gould, who had been growing a little supercilious, returned partially to his old conciliatory manner.

Next day a large party sallied forth with their guns, and Crawley was placed under a high, thick hedge, and told to look out for partridges as they came over his head. Young Gould was some little distance on his left; and at about the same interval on his right Sir Harry Sykes, a neighbouring squire famous for his skill with the gun, had his station. Beaters had gone round a long way off to drive the birds towards them, and soon shots were heard to right and left; and then Crawley saw some dark specks coming towards his hedge, and prepared to raise his gun. But it was like a flash of lightning; they were over and away before he could bring his gun up. Gould had fired, indeed, though ineffectually, but Sir Harry had a brace. Three more appeared; this time Crawley fired his first barrel at them before they were within shot, and then turning round, gave them the second after they had got far out of it. More came; Gould got one, Sir Harry another; a brace, flying close together passed not directly over Crawley, but a little to his right; and Sir Harry having just fired and being unloaded, Crawley let fly at them, and by a lucky fluke they both came rushing to the ground, stone-dead.

"Good shot, boy!" cried Sir Harry. He had hardly spoken before more birds came directly towards him; Crawley watched; he shot one as it came on, and immediately, without turning round, raised his gun, head, and arms, till it seemed as if he would go over backwards, and fired again with equally deadly effect.

This second feat Crawley did not attempt to imitate, but a steady shot as they came on he did keep trying, and not entirely without success, for every now and then a partridge came tumbling nearly into his face. But Gould shot two to his one, and he did second worst of the party. However, it was such quick and wholesale work that individual prowess was taken little notice of. And then there was a long, hot luncheon, which some of the ladies came out to, and another drive a few miles off in the afternoon.

It was all very exciting, and Crawley found the day a great deal too short; but still he would have preferred the snipe-shooting, if he could only be alone with no one to see his misses. There seemed more sport in finding your game than in having it driven up to you.

When he went up to dress for dinner he found a hamper of game there, with a blank label attached, for him to put any address he liked. So he wrote his mother's; and when it arrived she gave him most unmerited credit for skill, forethought, and trouble-taking. The Goulds certainly did things in a princely way.

It rained softly all that night, clearing up about nine in the morning, when those who were going out with the harriers had been half-an-hour at breakfast—Miss Clarissa, who was one of them, taking that meal in her habit. Crawley could hardly eat for excitement. The moment the water for his tub had been brought he had jumped up, and, directly he was dressed, hurried to the stables to see the horse he was to ride.

"And which is it to be?" asked Miss Clarissa.

"Well, I meant to take your advice and Daisy; but the groom said she had a delicate mouth and required a light hand, which I cannot have, you know, for want of practice. And he said Sir Robert was the stronger animal and would stay better, though not so fast. So I fixed on Sir Robert."

"And he will carry you very well if you can hold him; Lionel can't."

"What can't I do?" asked young Gould across the table, with his mouth full of game-pie.

"Hold Sir Robert."

"Why, his mouth is a bit hard, but I can sit him anyhow."

"Oh, yes, he goes easy enough."

The horses were soon brought round, and they all—a party of five—went out. Miss Clarissa, the only lady, put her foot into Mr Foljambe's proffered hand and vaulted lightly into the saddle. Crawley could mount without awkwardness; he had learned enough for that, and he knew what length of stirrup suited him, and could trot along the road or canter over the grass without attracting attention; so all went well till they reached Marley Farm, where the meet was. But directly Sir Robert saw the hounds he got excited and wanted a gallop—a thing the frost had debarred him of for weeks. So he kicked up his heels and shook his head, and capered about in a manner very grateful to his own feelings, but most discomposing to his rider, who was first on the pommel, then on the crupper, then heeling over on the near side, then on the off—though both sides threatened to be off sides if these vagaries took a more violent form.

When the hounds were turned into a field and working, Sir Robert evidently thought: "Come! I can't be standing still all day while those dawdling dogs are bothering about after a hare; a gallop I must have!" And he began to fight for his head; and it took all Crawley's strength— and he was a very muscular youngster—to hold him. Sir Robert did get away half across the field once and nearly demolished a hound, with twenty voices halloing to Crawley to come back, and the master using language which his godfathers and godmother never taught him, I am certain. I can only quote the mildest of his reproofs which was: "Go home to your nursery and finish your pap, you young idiot, and don't come endangering the lives of animals a thousand times more valuable than yourself!"

Poor Crawley, wild with shame and rage, managed to haul his horse round and get back to the others, when it did not improve his temper to see the broad grin on young Gould's face.

"Don't fight with your horse, youngster," said an old gentleman kindly. "The more you pull, the more he will pull too."

And Crawley loved that old gentleman, and would have adopted him for a father, or at least an uncle, on the spot, especially when he found his advice serviceable; for, loosing his reins when Sir Robert did stand still, and only checking him lightly when he tried to dart forward, kept him much quieter.

But would they never find that hare? Yes, at last there was a whimper, and another, and then a full burst, and away went the hounds, and the field after them, and, with one final kick up of his heels, Sir Robert got into his stride. Crawley forgot anger, vexation—everything but the rapture of the moment. The life of the scene, the contagious excitement of dogs, horses, and men, the rapid motion, it was even beyond what he had imagined.

So across a field to a little broken hedge, which Sir Robert took in his stride without his rider feeling it. Then sharp to the right towards a bigger fence, with a ditch beyond; nothing for a girl to crane at, but having to be jumped. Crawley, straining his eyes after the hounds, and not sitting very tight, was thrown forward when the horse rose, and, when he alighted, lost his stirrup, reeled, and came over on to mother earth; and when he rose to his feet he had the mortification to see Sir Robert careering away in great delight, and he proceeded to plod through the heavy ground after him.

"Whatever made you tumble off? Sir Robert never swerved or stumbled!" cried Miss Clarissa as she swept by him. But his wounded vanity was hardly felt in the greater annoyance of being out of the hunt.

But the best of harriers is that you hardly ever are out of the hunt. The hare came round again; some good-natured man caught the horse and brought him back to the grateful Crawley, who remounted and soon fell in with the hounds at a check.

"I say, you know," said Mr Foljambe, "if you get another fall I shall exert my authority as theatrical manager and send you home. I cannot have my Ensign Bellefleur break his neck when the part is not doubled."

"No!" said Miss Clarissa, "not before Wednesday."

Whimper, whimper; they hit it off and away again. Another fence with hurdles in it, and a knot of rustics looking on in delight. More cautious now, Crawley stuck his knees in and leaned back, and, when Sir Robert alighted, was still on, with both feet in the stirrups, but very much on the pommel, and not in an elegant attitude at all.

"Oh, look at he!" cried a boy with a turnip-chopper in one hand and a fork for dragging that root out in the other. "He be tailor."

"It's agwyne to rai-ain, Mister Lunnoner!" added another smockfrock; "won't yer get inside and pull the winders up?"

Even the clodhoppers jeered him; and that confounded friend of his, Gould, was close beside and laughed, and would be sure to repeat what he heard. Never mind, it was glorious fun. He came off again later in the afternoon, but that was at a good big obstacle, which most of the field avoided, going round by a gate, and Sir Robert stumbled a bit on landing, which made an excuse. But this time the horse, who was not so fresh now, waited for him to get up again. He felt very stiff and sore when it was all over and they were riding home again; especially it seemed as if his lower garments were stuffed with nettles. As for his tumbles, the ground was very soft, and he had not been kicked or trodden on, so that when he had had a warm bath he was as right as ninepence, only a little stiff.

Gould came to see after his welfare while he was dressing, and hoped he was not hurt, and expressed an opinion that he would learn to ride in time, and was glad they had only gone out with the jelly dogs instead of the foxhounds, or his friend and guest would not have seen anything of the run. All which was trying, coming from a fellow who had looked upon him as an oracle, and to whom he had condescended. At dinner, too, he was chaffed a little; but the hardest rider in the county, who had condescended to go out with the harriers to try a new horse, the foxhounds not meeting that day, and who was dining with Mr Gould afterwards, came to his rescue. "Never mind them, lad," he said; "you went as straight as a die. I saw you taking everything as it came, never looking for a gap or a gate, and it is not many of them can say the same."

This was Saturday, and Crawley was glad of a day of rest when he got up next morning, he was so stiff. On Monday preparations for the private theatricals began in earnest. Dresses came down from London, and were tried on and altered; the large drawing-room was given up to the hands of workmen, who fitted up a small stage at one end of it, with sloping seats in front, that all the guests might see. Those who were to act were always going into corners and getting some one to hear them their parts, and there were rehearsals. It was all a great bore to Crawley, who would fain have spent the time in shooting or riding, of which he got but little, so exacting was Miss Clarissa; and he was to go home on the Thursday, the day after the entertainment.

As the time approached, too, he felt more and more uncomfortable; he had found out from young Gould that the whole thing had been got up by his sister Clarissa, who thought herself a very good actress, and wished to show off; and he could easily see that he would not have been asked to the house at all, if it had not been for his school-fellow's talk, about what a clever individual he was—able to do everything. Now, next to Sir Valentine May, no character in the comedy is so important for the display of Dorothy Budd's (Clarissa's) performance as Ensign Bellefleur; and the more clearly Crawley saw this, the more fervently did he wish that he was out of it. It was too late now, however, and as he got on very fairly in the rehearsals, he began to hope he should pull through somehow.

On Tuesday the house was filled with company, and he was asked to give up his room and go to the top of the house, which, however, was no trouble to him. His clothes of seventeen hundred and fifteen were though, when the eventful evening came, and his wig, and the man who fitted it and daubed his face. And yet, when all the fidgeting was over, he wished that it had to begin again, that he might have a further respite.

The play began, and during the first scene he stood at the side envying the cool self-possession of Captain Wingfield, who had the part of "Valentine," and every one of whose speeches was followed by laughter from the unseen audience. When the second scene opened Miss Clarissa joined him, looking charming in her old-world dress; they were to go on in company, and he made a strenuous effort to pull himself together. But when he found himself in the full glare of the foot-lights, and looking before him saw the mass of expectant faces which rose, rank behind rank, half-way to the ceiling, his head went round, his brain became confused, and his first sentence was inaudible. "Speak up!" said Miss Clarissa in a loud whisper, and he uttered, "And have you no ambition?" in a louder key indeed, but in trembling accents, and standing more like a boy saying a lesson.

The audience cannot hiss in private theatricals, but they could not help a suppressed titter, which confused Crawley still more. He forgot what he had to say, and looked appealingly to the prompter, who prompted rather too loudly. Altogether the scene was spoilt, and Clarissa furious.

He did a little better in the second act, but not one quarter so well as he had in rehearsals, and was ready to punch his own head with vexation when the whole thing was over, and he had got rid of his costume and the messes on his face.

He went to bed instead of to supper, and next morning at breakfast no one alluded to the performance before him. Soon afterwards he took his leave of all but Miss Clarissa, who kept out of his way, and Lionel Gould drove him to the station very sulkily, for his sister had vented her displeasure upon him. And so they said an uncomfortable good-bye, and Crawley felt much relieved when he found himself alone in the train, with the humiliations of his visit behind him. They did not do him any harm, quite the contrary; he was made of better stuff than that. Of course he felt sore at his failures, when he was used to play first fiddle. When the devil of conceit is cast out of us the throes are severe. But by the time he got home Crawley was able to laugh at his own mishaps. Perhaps Gould got the worst of it after all. "That friend of yours an Admirable Crichton!" said his sister. "A fine set you must be!"



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE DESCENT OF AVERNUS.

A worse resident than Mr Wobbler the pedestrian took up his abode at Slam's, and this was no other than his son, Josiah Slam, who had gone to London as the only field wide enough for his talents ten years before, and had only been occasionally heard of since. Now, however, he thought fit to pay his parents a visit, and did not appear to be in prosperous circumstances, though it is probable that he had money, or money's worth, or the prospect of it, for Slam was not the man to kill the fatted calf for a prodigal son, unless he saw the way to making a good profit out of the veal, the hoofs, and the skin.

Josiah was a young man of varied accomplishments, all of which were practised for the purpose of transferring other people's cash from their pockets to his own. He called himself a sportsman, and no doubt the operation alluded to was sport, to him. Arriving about Christmas time, when holiday making was general, he gleaned a little at the game of skittles, at which many of the agriculturists round about thought they were somewhat proficient; but cunning as he was he could not go on disguising his game for ever, and so directly he saw that the yokels were growing shy of playing with him, he gave it up. The Sunday pitch- and-toss and card assemblages were also a source of profit to him. Marriner thought he could cheat, and had indeed stolen money in that way from his companions, and there was nothing Josiah Slam liked better than dealing with a weaker member of his own fraternity. He allowed Marriner to cheat him a little, and pretended not to discover it; played at being vexed; drew him on, and fleeced him of his ill-gotten gains.

But it was apparent that he played too well at these amusements also, so then he showed them a game at which everybody might win, except himself. Where it was all chance, and skill could not interfere. Roulette, in short. The room in which Professor Wobbler had given his boxing lessons had a table fitted up in it, and on this table the wheel-of-fortune, with its black and red compartments, and its little ivory ball to rattle round and finally fall into one of them, was placed, with a cloth marked in compartments answering to those in the wheel for the gamblers to stake their money upon. This game proved very fascinating to the dissipated amongst the farmers' sons round about, and to some of the farmers too, and money which ought to have gone to buy stock, or for the rent, was lost at that table. Of course some of them won occasionally, and considerable sums, for them, too; that formed the fascination of it.

But the agricultural interest was depressed, and ready money not forthcoming to the extent Josiah Slam desired; so upper servants of the neighbouring gentry were admitted, under strong vows of secrecy, and more than one gamekeeper's and huntsman's family was short of coals and meat that winter, because the money to provide such necessaries was left on that satanic, innocent-looking table. Every night this gambling went on, and Josiah made a good deal of money by it, being prepared, however, to clear out of the neighbourhood at the first symptom of the police having caught scent of the affair.

Ready money was waning and business growing slack when the Weston boys came back from the Christmas holidays, and Josiah, who knew that some of them frequented his father's yard, saw a fine opportunity of augmenting his gains by setting his little ball rolling in the daytime for their especial benefit. The scheme was nearly stifled by its own success; on the very first occasion a boy won four pounds, and could not conceal the triumphant fact from two or three intimate friends, who each whispered it to two or three others, and the consequence was that on the next Saturday afternoon no fewer than thirty Westonians came to Slam's yard seeking admittance. This alarmed old Slam, who saw a speedy prospect of discovery, and of that hold upon him which the authorities had long been seeking, being afforded them, to the consequent break up of his establishment. Better small safe profits which should last, he thought, than a haul, which after all must be limited to the amount of the school-boys' pocket-money, and be shared with his son, and the stoppage of all his little sources of profit. Not to mention the prospect of legal punishment. So the thirty had to go away again grumbling, with their money in their pockets. O fortunati, si sua bona norint.

But small parties of the initiated were still admitted, amongst them, of course, Saurin and his shadow, Edwards. The latter, who, as was said in a former chapter, had a peculiar fondness for games of chance, was positively infatuated with this device of young Slam's. It interfered with his studies by day, and he dreamed of it by night, so much did it engross his thoughts. He was never easy unless staking his shillings on that table, and watching eagerly whether the little ball would drop into a red hole or a black one. Saurin did not take half the interest in it at first, the principal attraction for him lying in the illegality, and the tampering with what he had heard and read of as having been the ruin of so many thousands. And he thought what fools they must be. There were many ways in which he could well imagine anyone spending his last penny, but not over a toy like this. But one day he came away a winner of a couple of sovereigns, and there was something in seeing the shillings and half-crowns gathering into a pile before him which caused him to catch the sordid fever with which his friend was infected. Hitherto he had made his stakes carelessly, but now he took a deeper interest in the thing. Sometimes he had won a few shillings and Edwards had lost, and at other times it went the other way, but the winner's gains were never so great as the loser's losses, and it was evident that the difference must remain with the conductor of the game, Josiah Slam.

"Why, we have been practically playing against each other for that rogue's benefit!" exclaimed Saurin, when he made this discovery. "In future we must always stake our money the same way." And this they did.

Then Saurin had another bright idea. It was an even chance each time whether red or black won, just the same as heads or tails in tossing, so it could not go on very long being one or the other in succession. Then, supposing they staked on red, and it turned up black several times, they had only to persevere with red and increase the stake and they must win their losses back, while if it was red several times they would have a clear gain.

This appeared to Edwards as a stroke of genius, and he was in a state of fever till they had an opportunity of putting it in practice. And it answered at first; but presently one colour, the wrong one, won so many times running that all their united capital went into Josiah's bank.

They looked at one another in blank dismay; there was an end to their speculations for the rest of that term, and by the next Mr Slam junior would have decamped from the paternal abode, for when the racing season commenced he flew at far higher game than the purses of rustics and school-boys.

"Can't come no more, can't yer?" said Josiah. "I'm sorry for that, though I expect I should be a loser, for you play well and knows a thing or two, you do. But it's the sport I care for more than the money, and I should have liked yer to have another chance. I know what I did once when I were in that fix; I just took and pawned my watch, and with the money I got on it I won back all I'd lost and more on the back of it, in a brace of shakes, and then took the ticker out again all comfortable."

"But there is no pawnbroker near here."

"No, in course not, and such a thing might not suit gents like you neither. Not but lords and markisses does it often; and if ever you really did want a pound or two very bad, for a short time, there's my father, as goes over to Cornchester perpetually, would pop anything light and small for yer, and bring yer back the money and ticket safe enough."

The hint took; old Slam was intrusted with Edwards' watch that evening, and shortly afterwards with Saurin's; and later on with all the pins and rings they possessed, though these were not worth much.

This may all sound accountable in Edwards, who was so weak and soft; but Saurin, though vicious, was no fool, and such excessively absurd conduct may appear to you inconsistent with his character. But that is because you do not know the rapidly enervating and at the same time fascinating mastery which gambling has on the mind of one who gives way to it. It is a sort of demoniacal possession; the kind-hearted, amiable man becomes hard and selfish, the generous man mean and grasping, the strong-minded superstitious under its influence. It may seem strange to enact laws to prevent people from risking their own money if they choose, but every civilised government has found it absolutely necessary to do so. For the losing gamester always thinks that with a little more money to risk he would certainly win all back again, and the thought maddens him so that he will not even shrink from crime to obtain it.

One day when the pair were penniless, and had no more means of raising money, young Slam generously offered them a loan, only requiring them to sign a paper acknowledging the transaction. To prevent their feeling themselves placed under an obligation he delicately allowed them to sign for more than they had received a proposition which Saurin acceded to with alacrity. Edwards, though he also signed, did so with hesitation, and expressed fears about the safety of the transaction afterwards.

"Pooh!" said Saurin, "the I O U is mere waste paper; we are both under age, and can snap our fingers at him if he demands payment. Besides, we will pay him back the first time we win enough."

"But supposing we don't win enough? we have been very unlucky lately," objected Edwards.

"All the more reason why luck should change," replied Saurin. "But suppose it does not, all the money will have gone into the fellow's pocket, so we shall have repaid him in reality, don't you see?"

Edwards didn't quite. If you borrow a shilling of any one to gamble with, and lose the stake and pay him with the shilling you have borrowed from him, he does not exactly get what is due to him. However, Edwards made no reply; no doubt Saurin knew best.

Crawley lost a little of the estimation in which he had been held that term. It was extremely mean of Gould to gossip about his guest's discomfitures at Nugget Towers, but the temptation to glorify himself at the other's expense was too strong. He had plenty of pocket-money always, and rich men or rich boys are sure to have some one to listen to them with a certain amount of deference, and if Gould was not popular exactly, his hampers were.

"I had Crawley to stay with me at Christmas, you know," he said. "He's a good fellow; pity he's so awfully poor. He had never been in a decent house before, and was awfully astonished. He had what they call 'the keeper's gun,' a ten-pound thing; our head-keeper twigged it. Good gun enough, I daresay, but not what a gentleman has for himself. But he could not use it; worst shot I ever met, by Jove! I showed him a thing or two, and he began to improve by my hints. He is not above taking hints, I will say that for him; and his riding! Why, I thought from those prints in his room that he was ever such a swell; but I don't believe he was ever outside a horse before. Even the ploughmen laughed at him. 'Get inside and pull up the windows!' they called out."

And so he went on, somewhat exaggerating all Crawley's failures, not so much out of any ill-will as for self-glorification. You may know the pastime of boring a hole through a chestnut, threading it on a string, and fighting it against other chestnuts: if you hit on a very tough chestnut, and with it broke another one, it is, or used to be the rule that your chestnut counted all the victories of the one it split in addition to its own, of which a careful account was kept. So that if a chestnut was a fiver, and it beat a tenner, it became at one leap a fifteener. In something the same way Gould had an idea he might score by Crawley, who was thought so much of for his proficiency in many things. If he himself was so much richer, such a better rider and shot, it ought to be assumed that if he took the trouble he could also beat him at cricket, football, mathematics, German, and freehand drawing. It was not very logical, and indeed he did not put the matter to himself so nakedly as that, but that was the sort of idea which influenced him nevertheless.

At the same time I fear that there may have been a little spite in his feelings too; he had been a good deal snubbed by his sister Clarissa for introducing a friend who had gone far to spoil her triumph in the play she had got up with such pains and forethought, and he much regretted having ever asked him. Gould's bragging would not have been much believed, only Crawley confirmed it. "Yes," he said, "I went to stay with Gould's people; very kind of them to ask me. They live in grand style; I thought I had got to Windsor Castle by mistake at first. I should have enjoyed it immensely if they had not made me act in private theatricals, which I hate, and I am afraid I came to utter grief over it. Took me out snipe-shooting; did you ever shoot at a snipe? bad bird to hit; Gould got some. I suppose one would pick up the knack of it in time. And, yes, we went out with the harriers; I had never sat a horse when he jumped anything before, and I came a couple of croppers. But it was great fun, and I did not hurt myself. Gould did not get a fall, oh no; he is used to it."