puzzled and odd face.

"They won't give 'em up," said the man; "there's a regular shinty in
the house, and everything at sixes and sevens. The landlord's come in
and took possession. The servants was a drinkin' up in the
drawingroom. They said--they said you had gone off with the plate,
Colonel"--the man added after a pause--"One of the servants is off
already. And Simpson, the man as was very noisy and drunk indeed, says
nothing shall go out of the house until his wages is paid up."

The account of this little revolution in May Fair astonished and gave a
little gaiety to an otherwise very triste conversation. The two
officers laughed at Rawdon's discomfiture.

"I'm glad the little 'un isn't at home," Rawdon said, biting his nails.
"You remember him, Mac, don't you, in the Riding School? How he sat the
kicker to be sure! didn't he?"

"That he did, old boy," said the good-natured Captain.

Little Rawdon was then sitting, one of fifty gown boys, in the Chapel
of Whitefriars School, thinking, not about the sermon, but about going
home next Saturday, when his father would certainly tip him and perhaps
would take him to the play.

"He's a regular trump, that boy," the father went on, still musing
about his son. "I say, Mac, if anything goes wrong--if I drop--I
should like you to--to go and see him, you know, and say that I was
very fond of him, and that. And--dash it--old chap, give him these
gold sleeve-buttons: it's all I've got." He covered his face with his
black hands, over which the tears rolled and made furrows of white.
Mr. Macmurdo had also occasion to take off his silk night-cap and rub
it across his eyes.

"Go down and order some breakfast," he said to his man in a loud
cheerful voice. "What'll you have, Crawley? Some devilled kidneys and
a herring--let's say. And, Clay, lay out some dressing things for the
Colonel: we were always pretty much of a size, Rawdon, my boy, and
neither of us ride so light as we did when we first entered the corps."
With which, and leaving the Colonel to dress himself, Macmurdo turned
round towards the wall, and resumed the perusal of Bell's Life, until
such time as his friend's toilette was complete and he was at liberty
to commence his own.

This, as he was about to meet a lord, Captain Macmurdo performed with
particular care. He waxed his mustachios into a state of brilliant
polish and put on a tight cravat and a trim buff waistcoat, so that all
the young office