ve time
to talk such nonsense.'

'Now,' said the still undaunted Violet, when the torrent of unsparing
jest had expended itself, 'now it is my turn. Let me show you one short
piece. This--"To L."'

It was an address evidently to his orphan sister, very beautiful and
simple; and speaking so touchingly of their loneliness together and
dependence on each other, that Mr. Fotheringham was overcome, and fairly
broke down in the reading--to the dismay of Violet, who had little
thought his feelings so easily excited.

'Think of the man going and publishing it,' said Theodora. 'If I was
Lady Lucy, I should not care a rush for it now.'

'That is what you get by belonging to a poet,' said Arthur. 'He wears
his heart outside.'

'This came straight from the heart, at least,' said Percy. 'It is good,
very good. I am glad you showed it to me. It would never do not to be
candid. I will turn him over again.'

'Well done, councillor,' cried Arthur. 'She has gained a verdict for
him.'

'Modified the sentence, and given me some re-writing to do,' said Percy.
'I cannot let him off; the more good there is in him, the more it
is incumbent on some one to slash him. Authors are like spaniels, et
cetera.'

'Hear, hear, Theodora!' cried Arthur. 'See there, he has the stick
ready, I declare.'

For in truth Arthur would hardly have been so patient of hearing so much
poetry, if it had not been for the delight he always took in seeing
his wife's opinion sought by a clever man, and he was glad to turn for
amusement to Percy's curiosities. Over the mantel-piece there was a sort
of trophy in imitation of the title-page to Robinson Crusoe, a thick
hooked stick set up saltire-wise with the green umbrella, and between
them a yataghan, supporting a scarlet blue-tasselled Greek cap. Percy
took down the stick, and gave it into Theodora's hand, saying, 'It has
been my companion over half Europe and Asia; I cut it at--'

'By the well of St. Keyne?' suggested the malicious brother.

'No, at the source of the Scamander,' said Percy. It served us in good
stead when we got into the desert of Engaddi.'

'Oh! was that when the robbers broke into John's tent?' exclaimed
Violet. 'Surely you had some better weapon?'

'Not I; the poor rogues were not worth wasting good powder on, and a
good English drubbing was a much newer and more effective experiment.
I was thenceforth known by the name of Grandfather of Clubs, and Brown
always manoeuvred me into sle