him never did any good; besides, it
was mere inconsiderateness, the excess of chivalrous compassion.

Mrs. Ponsonby said she thought young men's ardour more apt to be
against than for the poacher.

'I must confess,' said Aunt Catherine, with all the reluctance of a
high-spirited Dynevor,--'I must confess that Louis is no sportsman! He
was eager about it once, till he had become a good shot; and then it
lost all zest for him, and he prefers his own vagaries. He never takes
a gun unless James drives him out; and, oddly enough, his father is
quite vexed at his indifference, as if it were not manly. If his father
would only understand him!'

The specimen of that day had almost made Mrs. Ponsonby fear that there
was nothing to understand, and that only dear Aunt Kitty's affection
could perceive anything but amiable folly, and it was not much better
when the young gentleman reappeared, looking very debonnaire, and,
sitting down beside Mrs. Frost, said, in a voice meant for her
alone--'Henry IV; Part II., the insult to Chief Justice Gascoigne. My
father will presently enter and address you:

'O that it could be proved
That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged
In cradle-cloths our children as they lay,--
Call'd yours Fitzjocelyn--mine, Frost Dynevor!'

'For shame, Louis! I shall have to call you Fitzjocelyn! You are
behaving very ill.'

'Insulting the English constitution in the person of seven squires.'

'Don't, my dear! It was the very thing to vex your father that you
should have put yourself in such a position.'

'Bearding the Northwold bench with a groundsel plume and a
knitting-needle:

'With a needle for a sword, and a thimble for a hat,
Wilt thou fight a traverse with the Castle cat?'

The proper champion in such a cause, since 'What cat's averse to fish?''

'No, Louis dear,' said his aunt, struggling like a girl to keep her
countenance; 'this is no time for nonsense. One would think you had no
feeling for your father.'

'My dear aunt, I can't go to gaol like Prince Hal. I do assure you, I
did not assault the bench with the knitting-pins. What am I to do?'

'Not set at nought your father's displeasure.'

'I can't help it,' said he, almost sadly, though half smiling. 'What
would become of me if I tried to support the full weight? Interfering
with institutions, ruining reputation, blasting bulwarks, patronizing
poachers, vituperating