the son, fretfully interrupting him, "do, I beseech you,
take your hand off my shoulder. See now, you have made me lose my place.
I really do wish you would leave me alone for one moment in the day."

"I beg your pardon, Henry," said the father, looking reverently on the
Greek characters which his son preferred to the newspaper. "It is very
vexatious, I own; but do taste these liqueurs. Dr. Lukewarm said you
might have everything you liked--"

"But quiet!" muttered the cripple.

"I assure you, sir," said the wandering merchant, "that they are
excellent; allow me, Mr. Vavasour Mordaunt, to ring for a corkscrew. I
really do think, sir, that Mr. Henry looks much better. I declare he has
quite a colour."

"No, indeed!" said Vavasour, eagerly. "Well, it seems to me, too, that
he is getting better. I intend him to try Mr. E----'s patent collar in
a day or two; but that will in some measure prevent his reading. A great
pity; for I am very anxious that he should lose no time in his studies
just at present. He goes to Cambridge in October."

"Indeed, sir! Well, he will set the town in a blaze, I guess, sir!
Everybody says what a fine scholar Mr. Henry is,--even in the servants'
hall!"

"Ay, ay," said Vavasour, gratified even by this praise, "he is clever
enough, Brown; and, what is more" (and here Vavasour's look grew
sanctified), "he is good enough. His principles do equal honour to his
head and heart. He would be no son of mine if he were not as much the
gentleman as the scholar."

The youth lifted his heavy and distorted face from his book, and a sneer
raised his lip for a moment; but a sudden spasm of pain seizing him,
the expression changed, and Vavasour, whose eyes were fixed upon him,
hastened to his assistance.

"Throw open the window, Brown, ring the bell, call--"

"Pooh, Father," cried the boy, with a sharp, angry voice, "I am not
going to die yet, nor faint either; but it is all your fault. If you
will have those odious, vulgar people here for your own pleasure, at
least suffer me, another day, to retire."

"My son, my son!" said the grieved father, in reproachful anger, "it was
my anxiety to give you some trifling enjoyment that brought Brown here:
you must be sensible of that!"

"You tease me to death," grumbled the peevish unfortunate.

"Well, sir," said Mr. Brown, "shall I leave the bottles here? or do you
please that I shall give them to the butler? I see that I am displeasing
and troublesome to Mr