matter of course he met Bruff half-way down the garden, later than he
had been there for years.

"Why, Master Vane!" he cried, "you been at it again."

"Hush! Don't say anything," cried the lad. But Bruff's exclamation had
brought Martha to the kitchen-door; and as she caught sight of Vane's
face, she uttered a cry which brought out Eliza, who shrieked and ran to
tell Aunt Hannah, who heard the cry, and came round from the front,
where, with the doctor, she had been watching for the truant, the doctor
being petulant and impatient about his evening meal.

Then the murder was out, and Vane was hurried into the little
drawing-room, where Aunt Hannah strove gently to get him upon the couch.

"No, no, no," cried Vane. "Uncle, tell Bruff and those two that they
are not to speak about it."

The doctor nodded and gave the order, but muttered, "Only make them
talk."

"But what has happened, my dear? Where have you been?"

"Don't bother him," said the doctor, testily. "Here, boy, let's look at
your injuries."

"They're nothing, uncle," cried Vane. "Give me some tea, aunt, and I'm
as hungry as a hunter. What have you got?"

"Oh, my dear!" cried Aunt Hannah; "how can you, and with a face like
that."

"Nothing the matter with him," said the doctor, "only been fighting like
a young blackguard."

"Couldn't help it, uncle," said Vane. "You wouldn't have had me lie
down and be thrashed without hitting back."

"Oh, my dear!" cried Aunt Hannah, "you shouldn't fight."

"Of course not," said the doctor, sternly. "It is a low, vulgar,
contemptible, disgraceful act for one who is the son of a gentleman--
to--to--Did you win?"

"Yes, uncle," cried Vane; and he lay back in the easy chair into which
he had been forced by Aunt Hannah, and laughed till the tears rolled
down his cheeks.

Aunt Hannah seized him and held him.

"Oh, my love," she cried to the doctor, "pray give him something:
sal-volatile or brandy: he's hysterical."

"Nonsense!" cried the doctor. "Here--Vane--idiot, you leave off
laughing, sir?"

"I can't, uncle," cried Vane, piteously; "and it does hurt so. Oh my!
oh my! You should have seen the beggars run."

"Beggars? You've been fighting beggars, Vane!" cried Aunt Hannah. "Oh,
my dear! my dear!"

"Will you hold your tongue, Hannah," cried the doctor, sternly. "Here,
Vane, who ran? Some tramps?"

"No, uncle: those two gipsy lads."

"What! who attacked you before?"

"Yes, and they tri