ise youth yawned,
and stretched out a hand for any book that might be within his reach.
Austin left him to look about the grounds for Richard.

CHAPTER VII

A little laurel-shaded temple of white marble looked out on the river
from a knoll bordering the Raynham beechwoods, and was dubbed by Adrian
Daphne's Bower. To this spot Richard had retired, and there Austin found
him with his head buried in his hands, a picture of desperation, whose
last shift has been defeated. He allowed Austin to greet him and sit by
him without lifting his head. Perhaps his eyes were not presentable.

"Where's your friend?" Austin began.

"Gone!" was the answer, sounding cavernous from behind hair and fingers.
An explanation presently followed, that a summons had come for him in the
morning from Mr. Thompson; and that Mr. Ripton had departed against his
will.

In fact, Ripton had protested that he would defy his parent and remain by
his friend in the hour of adversity and at the post of danger. Sir Austin
signified his opinion that a boy should obey his parent, by giving orders
to Benson for Ripton's box to be packed and ready before noon; and
Ripton's alacrity in taking the baronet's view of filial duty was as
little feigned as his offer to Richard to throw filial duty to the winds.
He rejoiced that the Fates had agreed to remove him from the very hot
neighbourhood of Lobourne, while he grieved, like an honest lad, to see
his comrade left to face calamity alone. The boys parted amicably, as
they could hardly fail to do, when Ripton had sworn fealty to the
Feverals with a warmth that made him declare himself bond, and due to
appear at any stated hour and at any stated place to fight all the
farmers in England, on a mandate from the heir of the house.

"So you're left alone," said Austin, contemplating the boy's shapely
head. "I'm glad of it. We never know what's in us till we stand by
ourselves."

There appeared to be no answer forthcoming. Vanity, however, replied at
last, "He wasn't much support."

"Remember his good points now he's gone, Ricky."

"Oh! he was staunch," the boy grumbled.

"And a staunch friend is not always to be found. Now, have you tried your
own way of rectifying this business, Ricky?"

"I have done everything."

"And failed!"

There was a pause, and then the deep-toned evasion--

"Tom Bakewell's a coward!"

"I suppose, poor fellow," said Austin, in his kind way, "he doesn't want
to get into a dee