sable chevrons on an argent field. The crest, a
horse shoe, was indeed azure, but the blue of this and of the coats
of the serving-men only deepened the thunderous effect of the black.
Strangely, however, among these sad-coloured men there moved a
figure entirely differently. A negro, white turbaned, and with his
blue livery of a lighter shade, of fantastic make and relieved by a
great deal of white and shining silver, so as to have an entirely
different effect.

He placed himself behind the chair of Dr. Woodford's opposite
neighbour, a shrewd business-like looking gentleman, soberly but
handsomely dressed, with a certain foreign cut about his clothes,
and a cravat of rich Flemish lace. He was presented to the Doctor
as Major Oakshott's brother, Sir Peregrine. The rest of the party
consisted of Oliver and Robert, sturdy, ruddy lads of fifteen and
twelve, and their tutor, Mr. Horncastle, an elderly man, who twenty
years before had resigned his living because he could not bring
himself to accept all the Liturgy.

While Sir Peregrine courteously relieved his sister-in-law of the
trouble of carving the gammon of bacon which accompanied the veal
which her husband was helping, Dr. Woodford informed her of her
son's progress towards recovery.

"Ah," she said, "I knew you had come to tell us that he is ready to
be brought home;" and her tone was fretful.

"We are greatly beholden to you, sir," said the Major from the
bottom of the table. "The boy shall be fetched home immediately."

"Not so, sir, as yet, I beg of you. Neither his head nor his side
can brook the journey for at least another week, and indeed my good
sister Woodford will hardly know how to part with her patient."

"She will not long be of that mind after Master Perry gets to his
feet again," muttered the chaplain.

"Indeed no," chimed in the mother. "There will be no more peace in
the house when he is come back."

"I assure you, madam," said Dr. Woodford, "that he has been a very
good child, grateful and obedient, nor have I heard any complaints."

"Your kindness, or else that of Mrs. Woodford, carries you far,
sir," answered his host.

"What? Is my nephew and namesake so peevish a scapegrace?" demanded
the visitor.

On which anecdotes broke forth from all quarters. Peregrine had
greased the already slippery oak stairs, had exchanged Oliver's
careful exercise for a ribald broadsheet, had filled Mr.
Horncastle's pipe with gunpowder, and mixe