ult to injury,
by a farewell to "Jack among the maidens."

Meta tried to console him, by persuading him that he was their
protector, and he began to think there was need of a guard, when a
mighty cheer caused him to take refuge behind Ethel. Even when assured
that it was anything but terrific, he gravely declared that he thought
Margaret would want him, but he could not cross the garden without Meta
to protect him.

She would not allow any one else to relieve her from the doughty
champion, and thereby she missed the spectacle. It might be that she did
not regret it, for though it would have been unkind to refuse to come in
with her brother and sister, her wound was still too fresh for crowds,
turmoil, and noisy rejoicing to be congenial. She did not withdraw her
hand, which Aubrey squeezed harder at each resounding shout, nor object
to his conducting her to see his museum in the dark corner of the
attics, most remote from the tumult.

The loss was not great. The others could hear nothing distinctly, and
see only a wilderness of heads; but the triumph was complete. Dr. May
had been cheered enough to satisfy even Hector; George Rivers had made
a very fair speech, and hurrahs had covered all deficiencies; Hector had
shouted till he was as hoarse as the jackdaws; the opposite candidate
had never come forward at all; Tomkins was hiding his diminished head;
and the gentlemen had nothing to report but success, and were in the
highest spirits.

By and by Blanche was missing, and Ethel, going in quest of her, spied
a hem of blue merino peeping out under all the cloaks in the hall
cupboard, and found the poor little girl sobbing in such distress, that
it was long before any explanation could be extracted, but at last it
was revealed--when the door had been shut, and they stood in the dark,
half stifled among the cloaks, that George's spirits had taken his old
facetious style with Blanche, and in the very hearing of Hector!
The misery of such jokes to a sensitive child, conscious of not
comprehending their scope, is incalculable, and Blanche having been a
baby-coquette, was the more susceptible. She hid her face again from the
very sound of her own confession, and resisted Ethel's attempts to draw
her out of the musty cupboard, declaring that she could never see either
of them again. Ethel, in vain, assured her that George was gone to the
dinner at the Swan; nothing was effectual but being told that for her
to notice what had