t at lessons--Marathon, Egypt, Naples, the Peloponnesus, _tout le
tremblement_--and I shall say to each of them, 'Oh, this is you, is it?
What a nuisance you've been to me on the map.' We shall go up Mount
Vesuvius, and the Pyramids, and do all sorts of wild things; and by the
time I come home I shall have forgotten the whole of my education."

"If Miss McCroke could hear you!"

"She does, often. You can't imagine the wild things I say to her. But I
love her--fondly."

A great bell clanged out with a vigorous peal, that seemed to shake the
old stable.

"There's the first bell. I must run and dress. Come to the drawing-room
and see mamma."

"But, Vixen, how can I sit down to dinner in such a costume,"
remonstrated Rorie, looking down at his brown shooting-suit, leather
gaiters, and tremendous boots--boots which, instead of being beautified
with blacking, were suppled with tallow; "I can't do it, really."

"Nonsense," cried Vixen, "what does it matter? Papa seldom dresses for
dinner. I believe he considers it a sacrifice to mamma's sense of
propriety when he washes his hands after coming in from the home farm.
And you are only a boy--I beg pardon--an undergraduate. So come along."

"But upon my word, Vixen, I feel too much ashamed of myself."

"I've asked you to dinner, and you've accepted," cried Vixen, pulling
him out of the stable by the lapel of his shooting-jacket.

He seemed to relish that mode of locomotion, for he allowed himself to
be pulled all the way to the hall-door, and into the glow of the great
beech-wood fire; a ruddy light which shone upon many a sporting trophy,
and reflected itself on many a gleaming pike and cuirass, belonging to
days of old, when gentlemanly sport for the most part meant man-hunting.

It was a fine old vaulted hall, a place to love and remember lovingly
when far away. The walls were all of darkly bright oak panelling, save
where here and there a square of tapestry hung before a door, or a
painted window let in the moonlight. At one end there was a great
arched fireplace, the arch surmounted with Squire Tempest's armorial
bearings, roughly cut in freestone. A mailed figure of the usual stumpy
build, in helm and hauberk, stood on each side of the hearth; a large
three-cornered chair covered with stamped and gilded leather was drawn
up to the fireside, the Squire's favourite seat on an autumn or winter
afternoon. The chair was empty now, but, stretched at full length
before t