be near the spot at the time, so we managed to pull him out
between us."

"I don't like Bucephalus," observed Miss Peppy, stirring her tea with
her egg-spoon by mistake.

"Don't you, aunt--why?"

"Because he's so big and strong and fierce. I wonder you can take
pleasure in riding such a great cart-horse, Kennie."

Miss Peppy at this moment discovered her mistake in regard to the
egg-spoon, and rectified it, observing with a look of resignation, that
there _was_ no accounting for the way in which things happened in this
world.

"Don't call my Bucephalus a cart-horse, aunt," said Kenneth, beginning
to eat languidly; "true, he is uncommonly big and strong, but then I am
unusually big too, so we're well matched; and then his limbs are as
delicately turned as those of a racer; and you should see him taking a
five-barred gate, aunt!--he carries me over as if I were a mere feather.
Think of his swimming powers too. John Furby is not the first man he
has enabled me to drag out of the stormy sea. Ah! he's a noble horse--
worthy of higher praise than you seem inclined to give him, believe me."

"Well I'm sure I have no objection to the horse if you have none,
Kennie, and it's a good thing for a beast to be able to save human
lives, though why human lives should require to be saved at all is a
mystery that I never could fathom; surely if men would only agree to
give up going to sea altogether, and never build any more ships, there
would be no more drowning, and no need of lifeboats and cork boots--or
coats, I forget which--that enable them to walk on the water, or float
in it, I don't remember which. I'm sure with all that I have to
remember it's no wonder--what with ridiculous little trifles to worry
one, such as keys, and thimbles, and scissors, when we should be giving
our minds to the solemn realities of life--and then,--as if that were
not enough for any woman's shoulders,--to have a little child left at
one's door."

"Oh, by the way," interrupted Kenneth, "I had quite forgotten the child.
Mrs Niven told me about it, and I looked into the crib as I went up to
bed last night, or rather this morning, and saw that it was sleeping--
somewhat restlessly I fancied. Who brought it here?"

Mr Stuart, who had hitherto eaten his breakfast in silence, looked at
his sister as if the reply would interest him.

Before the answer could be given the door opened, and a smart handsome
youth of apparently eighteen years of age