one home, and the dread of dangerous subjects in the other. The expedition had all the charms of the Coombe times; and the geological discoveries were so numerous and precious, that the load became sufficient to break down the finders, and Ethel engaged a market-woman to bring the baskets in her cart the next morning.
That morning a note from Richard begged Ethel to come early to Cocksmoor to see Granny Hall, who was dying. Thus left to their own devices, Aubrey and Gertrude conscientiously went through some of their studies; then proceeded to unpack their treasury of fossils, and endeavour to sort out Leonard’s share, as to which doubts arose. Daisy proposed to carry the specimens at once to Bankside, where she wanted to see Leonard’s prime echinus; and Aubrey readily agreed, neither of the young heads having learnt the undesirableness of a morning visit in a house preparing for a dinner-party too big for it.
However, Leonard made them extremely welcome. It was too foggy a day for rifle practice, and all the best plate and china were in the schoolroom, his only place of refuge; Ave was fluttering about in hopes of getting everything done before Mrs. Pugh could take it out of her hands, and the energies of the household were spent on laying out the dining-table. It was clearly impossible to take Gertrude anywhere but into the drawing-room, which was in demi-toilette state, the lustres released from their veils, the gayer cushions taken out of their hiding-places, and the brown holland covers half off. This was the only tranquil spot, and so poor little Mab thought, forbidden ground though it was. Even in her own home, the schoolroom, a strange man had twice trod upon her toes; so no wonder, when she saw her own master and his friends in the drawing-room, that she ventured in, and leaping on a velvet cushion she had never seen before, and had never been ordered off, she there curled herself up and went to sleep, unseen by Leonard, who was in eager controversy upon the specimens, which Gertrude, as she unpacked, set down on floor, chair, or ottoman, unaware of the offence she was committing. So, unmolested, the young geologists talked, named, and sorted the specimens, till the clock striking the half-hour, warned the Mays that they must return; and Leonard let them out at the window, and crossed the lawn to the side gate with them to save the distance.
He had just returned, and was kneeling on the floor hastily collecting the fossils, when the door opened, and Henry Ward, coming home to inspect the preparations, beheld the drawing-room bestrewn with the rough stones that he had proscribed, and Mab, not only in the room, but reposing in the centre of the most magnificent cushion in the house!
His first movement of indignation was to seize the dog with no gentle hand. She whined loudly; and Leonard, whom he had not seen, shouted angrily, ‘Let her alone;’ then, at another cry from her, finding his advance to her rescue impeded by a barricade of the crowded and disarranged furniture, he grew mad with passion, and launched the stone in his hand, a long sharp-pointed belemnite. It did not strike Henry, but a sound proclaimed the mischief, as it fell back from the surface of the mirror, making a huge star of cracks, unmarked by Leonard, who, pushing sofa and ottoman to the right and left, thundered up to his brother, and with uplifted hand demanded what he meant by his cruelty.
‘Is—is this defiance?’ stammered Henry, pointing to the disordered room.
‘Look here, Averil,’ as she appeared at the sounds, ‘do you defend this boy now he has very nearly killed me?’
‘Killed you!’ and Leonard laughed angrily; but when Henry held up the elf-bolt, and he saw its sharp point, he was shocked, and he saw horror in Averil’s face.
‘I see,’ he said gravely. ‘It was a mercy I did not!’ and he paused. ‘I did not know what I was about when you were misusing my dog, Henry. Shake hands; I am sorry for it.’
But Henry had been very much frightened as well as angered, and thought, perhaps, it was a moment to pursue his advantage.
‘You treat things lightly,’ he said, not accepting the hand.
‘See what you have done.’
‘I am glad it was not your head,’ said Leonard. ‘What does it cost? I’ll pay.’
‘More than your keep for a year,’ moaned Henry, as he sighed over the long limbs of the starfish-like fracture.
‘Well, I will give up anything you like, if you will only not be sulky about it, Henry. It was unlucky, and I’m sorry for it; I can’t say more!’
‘But I can,’ said Henry with angry dignity, reinforced by the sight of the seamed reflection of his visage in the shivered glass. ‘I tell you, Leonard, there’s no having you in the house; you defy my authority, you insult my friends, you waste and destroy more than you are worth, and you are absolutely dangerous. I would as soon have a wild beast about the place. If you don’t get the Randall next week, and get off to the University, to old Axworthy’s office you go at once.’
‘Very well, I will,’ said Leonard, turning to collect the fossils, as if he had done with the subject.
‘Henry, Henry, what are you saying?’ cried the sister.
‘Not a word, Ave,’ said Leonard. ‘I had rather break stones on the road than live where my keep is grudged, and there’s not spirit enough to get over a moment’s fright.’
‘It is not any one individual thing,’ began Henry, in a tone of annoyance, ‘but your whole course—’
There he paused, perceiving that Leonard paid no attention to his words, continuing quietly to replace the furniture and collect the fossils, as it no one else were in the room, after which he carried the basket up-stairs.
Averil hurried after him. ‘Leonard! oh, why don’t you explain? Why don’t you tell him how the stones came there?’
Leonard shook his head sternly.
‘Don’t you mean to do anything?’
‘Nothing.’
‘But you wanted another year before trying for the scholarship.’
‘Yes; I have no chance there.’
‘He will not do it! He cannot mean it!’
‘I do then. I will get my own living, and not be a burthen, where my brother cannot forgive a broken glass or a
