s
Close, but he began to fear it was inevitable.

"Do tell me about college," Charlotte began. "I am dying to hear,
because I have a special interest in college now." This was said with a
smile and glance which were meant to make an impression. "And do you
wear one of those sweet hoods with snow-white fur round it, Cousin
Melville? They do look so pretty!"

"Well--no," drawled Melville, evasively; "I have not taken my B.A. yet."

"Mr. Bamfylde, the new minor Canon at the cathedral, wears one; and it
is so charming!"

"Humph!" Melville rejoined.

What were all the minor canons in the world to him that he should care
whether they wore fur-lined or silk-lined hoods at their backs?

They had reached the turnstile now leading into the Cathedral Green.

"I say," he began, "I think I must bid you good-bye here, Charlotte. I
will call on Aunt Letitia another day, for I must look after the
carriage. I am afraid there should be some mistake. I want a pair of
greys to post with, and I should not wonder if they tried to pass off
two old bays, with their bones just through their skins."

And the next minute the fine gentleman was sauntering off in the
opposite direction to poor Charlotte, who went away disconsolate.

Meantime Mr. Arundel and Joyce had walked quickly to the Vicar's Close,
and Joyce, having captured her basket with the dead bird, was surprised
to find Mr. Arundel waiting for her at the little gate.

"Mr. Plume's shop is in New Street," she said. "It is scarcely to be
called a shop, but there are a few stuffed birds in the window. We must
go up the steps by the chapel into the North Liberty."

Mr. Arundel was struck with the business-like fashion in which Joyce
conducted her interview with Mr. Plume.

He was a little dried-up-looking man, whose front parlour had that
peculiar scent which is characteristic of rooms where stuffed animals
are kept.

Mr. Plume did not confine himself to birds. A large fox, with gleaming
teeth and glassy eyes, stared at the customers from a shelf in a recess
by the fire-place. A badger was on another; and owls of all sizes and
colours were standing, with one foot tucked up, and a certain stony
stare in their great round, unshadowed eyes.

Mr. Plume did not waste words.

"Sparry-'awk," he said "sparry-'awk; it is of not great value, missie.
Humph!" he continued, "it's not a rare speciment, but I'll set it up.
How's the young gentleman, eh?"

"Quite well, thank you, Mr. Pl