o match
for an animated extinguisher!

"`Percy,' continued the letter, `is as lively and full of "dodges" as
ever. He soon got over his kidnapping adventure. Indeed, the only
difference it has made is that we have now one, or rather two, new
inmates at Wildtree, for Uncle Rimbolt has employed Percy's rescuer as
his librarian, and the dog has, of course, taken up his abode here too.
He is a perfect darling! so handsome and clever! He took to me the
first moment I saw him, and he would do anything for me.' Really!" said
the father; "that's coming it rather strong, isn't it, with the new
librar-- Oh, perhaps she means the dog! Ha, ha! `Aunt Rimbolt gets
some fine extinguisher practice with this newcomer, against whom she has
a most unaccountable prejudice. He is very shy and gentlemanly, but I
am sure Percy never had a better friend. He has become ever so much
steadier.' Did you ever know such letter-writers as these girls are?
Which newcomer does she mean, the fellow who's a perfect darling, or the
fellow who's shy and gentlemanly? and which, in the name of wonder, is
the man and which the dog? Upon my word, something awful might be going
on, and I should be none the wiser! `Julius nearly always escorts me in
my walks. He is _such_ a dear friendly fellow, and always carries my
bag or parasol. Aunt, of course, doesn't approve of our being so
devoted to one another, for she looks upon Julius as an interloper; but
it doesn't matter much to us. Percy often comes with us, but Julius
rather resents a third person. He thinks--so do I, much as I like
Percy--that two are company and three are none.'"

Major Atherton--for the soldier was no other--leaned back in his chair,
and fanned himself with the letter.

"How _on earth_ am I to know who or what she is talking about? If it's
not the dog, upon my honour, Aunt Rimbolt-- It can't be the dog, though.
She calls him Julius; and why should she take the boy along with them
if it wasn't the librarian puppy she walked with? Rimbolt ought to look
after things better than that!

"`Uncle Rimbolt thinks very highly of his new _protege_. He is so
quiet; it is quite painful sometimes talking to him. I'm sure he has
had a lot of trouble; he has a sort of hunted look sometimes which is
quite pathetic. Aunt hardly ever lets him come into the drawing-room,
and when she does it is generally in order to snub him. I fancy he
feels his anomalous position in this house very muc