On the death of his parents, Faraday Little was taken to Raby Hall. In
accepting his guardianship, Mr. Raby struggled stoutly against two
prejudices: Faraday was plain-looking and sceptical.

"Handsome is as handsome does, sweetheart," pleaded Jael, interceding
for the orphan with arms that were still beautiful. "Dear knows, it is
not his fault if he does not look like--his father," she added with a
great gulp. Jael was a woman, and vindicated her womanhood by never
entirely forgiving a former rival.

"It's not that alone, madam," screamed Raby, "but, d--m it, the little
rascal's a scientist,--an atheist, a radical, a scoffer! Disbelieves in
the Bible, ma'am; is full of this Darwinian stuff about natural
selection and descent. Descent, forsooth! In my day, madam, gentlemen
were content to trace their ancestors back to gentlemen, and not
to--monkeys!"

"Dear heart, the boy is clever," urged Jael.

"Clever!" roared Raby; "what does a gentleman want with cleverness?"

CHAPTER III.

Young Little WAS clever. At seven he had constructed a telescope; at
nine, a flying-machine. At ten he saved a valuable life.

Norwood Park was the adjacent estate,--a lordly domain dotted with red
deer and black trunks, but scrupulously kept with gravelled roads as
hard and blue as steel. There Little was strolling one summer morning,
meditating on a new top with concealed springs. At a little distance
before him he saw the flutter of lace and ribbons. A young lady, a
very young lady,--say of seven summers,--tricked out in the crying
abominations of the present fashion, stood beside a low bush. Her
nursery-maid was not present, possibly owing to the fact that John the
footman was also absent.

Suddenly Little came towards her. "Excuse me, but do you know what
those berries are?" He was pointing to the low bush filled with dark
clusters of shining--suspiciously shining--fruit.

"Certainly; they are blueberries."

"Pardon me; you are mistaken. They belong to quite another family."

Miss Impudence drew herself up to her full height (exactly three feet
nine and a half inches), and, curling an eight of an inch of scarlet
lip, said, scornfully. "YOUR family, perhaps."

Faraday Little smiled in the superiority of boyhood over girlhood.

"I allude to the classification. That plant is the belladonna, or
deadly nightshade. Its alkaloid is a narcotic poison."

Sauciness turned pale. "I--have--just--eaten--some!" An