ce that first day at the cathedral, seemed to
him to show that he only praised her at first, because she was his
sister out of courtesy, and that he was, as every man of taste must be,
disappointed with her on nearer acquaintance. Superficial and foolish
himself, he was almost unable to appreciate the earnest sincerity of his
friend, and on this particular Sunday his temper had been tried by the
arrival of a letter from the Palace at Wells, brought over on the
previous evening by a special messenger, in which the Lord Bishop of
Bath and Wells requested the pleasure of Mr. Arundel's company at dinner
on the following Monday, but made no mention of him. He inwardly voted
the bishop "a stupid old bat," as every one _must_ be who was blind to
his perfections!

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V.

SUNDAY AT FAIR ACRES.

The boys, perhaps excepting Ralph and Piers, were invariably more
turbulent on Sunday than any other day of the week. There was an attempt
made by their mother to enforce discipline on Sunday, from the same
reason which made her scrupulous in attending church regularly. Besides,
the boys' best Sunday jackets and long tight trousers were in peril, if
their usual habits of tree-climbing and birds' egg hunting were not laid
aside with their week-day garments.

The large Sunday dinner at one o'clock was always lengthened out to its
utmost limit, but when that was over, the time hung heavy on hand.

A smart box on Bunny's ear, administered by Melville, with a hand on
which a huge ring glistened, and which left a pretty deep triangular cut
on the boy's ear, roused Piers' indignation.

"You coward," he said; "just because he trod on your smart shoe. I would
not wear such a shoe for a hundred pounds."

"You are not very likely to be tried," was Melville's rejoinder. "Your
feet are not made for shoes with buckles."

"Oh! Melville," Joyce exclaimed, "how can you be so unkind?" while his
father said, in a stern voice, "If you have no brains, sir, I always
thought you had a heart."

Mrs. Falconer was rising to follow Bunny, whose loud crying was heard in
the hall; but Joyce said:

"Mother, let me go. I had better take all the boys away, mother, and
amuse them, if I can. I don't think Bunny need cry like that, though it
was too bad to hit him."

"It was indeed," Gilbert Arundel could not help exclaiming fervently,
though like all guests in a house, when family disputes are going on, he
felt it difficult to