ear, "ducks and geese!" and then heaved a sigh, as he thought
of the dux no longer. "V.V.," continued Meta; "what can that mean?"

"Five, five, of course," said Flora.

"No, no! I have it, Venus Victrix" said Ethel, "the ancestral Venus! Ha!
don't you see? there she is on the other side, crowning Claudius."

"Then there is an E."

"Something about Aeneas," suggested Norman gravely. But Ethel was sure
that could not be, because there was no diphthong; and a fresh theory
was just being started, when Blanche's head was thrust in to know what
made them all so busy.

"Why, Ethel, what are you doing with Harry's old medal of the Duke of
Wellington?"

Poor Meta and Ethel, what a downfall! Meta was sure that Norman had
known it the whole time, and he owned to having guessed it from Harry's
importunity for the search. Harry and Mary had certainly made good
use of their time, and great was the mirth over the trap so cleverly
set--the more when it was disclosed that Dr. May had been a full
participator in the scheme, had suggested the addition of the pottery,
had helped Harry to some liquid to efface part of the inscription, and
had even come up with them to plant the snare in the most plausible
corner for researches.

Meta, enchanted with the joke, flew off to try to take in her governess
and Mrs. Wilmot, whom she found completing their leisurely promenade,
and considering where they should spread the dinner.

The sight of those great baskets of good fare was appetising, and the
company soon collected on the shady turf, where Richard made himself
extremely useful, and the feast was spread without any worse mishap than
Nipen's running away with half a chicken, of which he was robbed, as Tom
reported, by a surly-looking dog that watched in the outskirts of the
camp, and caused Tom to return nearly as fast as the poor little white
marauder.

Meta "very immorally," as Norman told her, comforted Nipen with a large
share of her sandwiches. Harry armed himself with a stick and Mary with
a stone, and marched off to the attack, but saw no signs of the enemy,
and had begun to believe him a figment of Tom's imagination, when Mary
spied him under a bush, lying at the feet of a boy, with whom he was
sharing the spoil.

Harry called out rather roughly, "Hallo! what are you doing there?"

The boy jumped up, the dog growled, Mary shrank behind her brother,
and begged him not to be cross to the poor boy, but to come away. Harry
rep