Percy, hastily taking stock of the bill of fare.

"Well, run and dress yourself, or dinner will be cold."

"I'm too fagged," says Percy, coolly taking a seat. "Some soup,
please."

"I can't have you sit down in that state, Percy," says Mr Rimbolt; "it
is not polite to your mother and Raby."

"If the poor boy is tired," says Mrs Rimbolt, "we must excuse him this
once."

So Mr Rimbolt, as has happened more than once before, gives in, and
Percy does as he pleases.

He does full justice to his dinner, and takes no part in the
conversation, which is chiefly carried on by Mr Rimbolt, sometimes with
his wife, sometimes with Raby. At length, however, the first cravings
of appetite being subdued, he shows a readiness to put in his oar.

"How goes the invisible paint, Percy?" asks his father, with a twinkle
in his eye.

"Used up," replies the boy solemnly. "I'm sure it would answer. I
painted Hodge with it, and could scarcely see him at all from a
distance."

"I believe you paint yourself," says Raby, laughing, "and that's why the
men can't find you."

Percy is pleased at this, and takes it as a recognition of his genius.
He has great faith in his own discovery, and it is everything to him to
find some one else believing in it too.

"If you like to come to the river to-morrow, I'll show you something,"
says he condescendingly. "It licks the paint into fits!"

"Raby will be busy in the village to-morrow," says her aunt. "What is
it you are doing at the river?"

"Oh, ah!" solemnly responds the son, whose year at a public-school has
not taught him the art of speaking respectfully to his parents;
"wouldn't you like to know?"

"I wish you'd play somewhere else, dear. It makes me so uneasy when you
are down by the river."

"Play!" says Percy rather scornfully; "I don't play there--I work!"

"I fear you are neglecting one sort of work for another, my boy," says
Mr Rimbolt; "we never got through Virgil yet, you know--at least, you
didn't. I've been through three books since you deserted our readings."

"Oh, Virgil's jolly enough," replied the boy; "I'm going to finish it as
soon as my experiments are over."

"What experiments?"

"Oh, it's a dodge to--I'd show it you as soon as it's finished. It's
nearly done now, and it will be a tremendous tip."

This is all that can be extracted from the youthful man of science--at
least, by the elders. To Raby, when the family retires to the drawing-
room, the boy