gainst which even she was not always proof.
I have seen her laugh and fetch out the parliament box when Leo
followed her about like a dog walking on its hind legs, wagging an old
piece of rope at the end of his jacket for a tail, and singing--

"Good Mother Hubbard,
Pray what's in your cupboard?
Could you give a poor dog a bone?"

And when he got the parliament he would "sit up" and balance a slice
of the gingerbread on his nose, till Polly and I cheered with delight,
and Rubens became frantic at the mockery of his own performances, and
Mrs. Bundle complained that "Sir Lionel never knowed when to let
nonsense be."

But I think she was something like the housemaid who "did the
bedrooms," and who complained bitterly of the additional trouble given
by Leo and me when we were at Dacrefield, and who was equally pathetic
about the dulness of the Hall when we returned to school. "The young
gentlemen be a deal of trouble, but they do keep a bit of life in the
place, sure enough."

CHAPTER XXV

THE DEATH OF RUBENS--POLLY'S NEWS--LAST TIMES

When one has reached a certain age time seems to go very fast. Then,
also, one begins to understand the meaning of such terms as "the
uncertainty of life," "changes," "loss of friends," "partings," "old
times," etc., which ring sadly in the ears of grown-up folk.

After my first half at Eton, this universal experience became mine.
There was never a holiday time that I did not find some change; and,
too often, a loss to meet my return.

One of the first and bitterest was the death of Rubens.

I had been most anxious to get home, and yet somehow, in less high
spirits than usual, which made it feel not unnatural that my father's
face should be so unusually grave when he came to meet me.

"I have some very bad news for you, my dear boy," he said. "I fear,
Regie, that poor Rubens is dying."

"He've been a-dying all day, sir," said the groom, when we stood at
last by Rubens' side. "But he seems as if he couldn't go peaceable
till you was come."

He seemed to be gone. The beautiful curls were limp and tangled. He
lay on his side with his legs stretched out; his eyes were closed.
But when I stooped over him and cried "Ruby!" his flabby ears pricked,
and he began to struggle.

"It's a fit," said the groom.

But it was nothing of the kind. Rubens knew what he was about, and at
last actually got on to his feet, when, after swaying feebly about for
a moment, he sta