Scenes and Characters

crept across the room on tiptoe. She started when Claude looked up and said, 'Why, Phyl, I have not seen you to- day.'

'Good morning,' she mumbled, advancing in her sidelong way.

Claude suspected that she had been more blamed the day before than the occasion called for, and wishing to make amends he kissed her, and said something good-natured about spending the evening together.

Phyllis, a little reassured, went to her own occupations. She took out a large heavy volume, laid it on the window-seat, and began to read. Claude was interested in his own book, and did not look up till the light failed him. He then, closing his book, gave a long yawn, and looked round for his little companion, almost thinking, from the stillness of the room, that she must have gone to seek for amusement in the nursery.

She was, however, still kneeling against the window-seat, her elbows planted on the great folio, and her head between her hands, reading intently.

'Little Madam,' said he, 'what great book have you got there?'

'As You Like It,' said Phyllis.

'What! are you promoted to reading Shakspeare?'

'I have not read any but this,' said Phyllis. 'Ada and I have often looked at the pictures, and I liked the poor wounded stag coming down to the water so much, that I read about it, and then I went on. Was it wrong, Claude? no one ever told me not.'

'You are welcome to read it,' said Claude, 'but not now-it is too dark. Come and sit in the great chair on the other side of the fire, and be sociable. And what do you think of 'As You Like It?''

'I like it very much,' answered Phyllis, 'only I cannot think why Jacks did not go to the poor stag, and try to cure it, when he saw its tears running into the water.'

To save the character of Jacks, Claude gravely suggested the difficulty of catching the stag, and then asked Phyllis her opinion of the heroines.

'Oh! it was very funny about Rosalind dressing like a man, and then being ready to cry like a girl when she was tired, and then pretending to pretend to be herself; and Celia, it was very kind of her to go away with Rosalind; but I should have liked her better if she had stayed at home, and persuaded her father to let Rosalind stay too. I am sure she would if she had been like Ada. Then it is so nice about Old Adam and Orlando. Do not you think so, Claude? It is just what I am sure Wat Greenwood would do for Redgie, if he was to be turned out like Orlando.'

'It is just what Wat Greenwood's ancestor did for Sir Maurice Mohun,' said Claude.

'Yes, Dame Greenwood tells us that story.'

'Well, Phyl, I think you show very good taste in liking the scene between Orlando and Adam.'

'I am glad you like it, too, Claude. But I will tell you what I like best,' exclaimed the little girl, springing up, 'I do like it, when Orlando killed the lioness and the snake,-and saved Oliver; how glad he must have been.'

'Glad to have done good to his enemy,' said Claude; 'yes, indeed.'

'His enemy! he was his brother, you know. I meant it must be so very nice to save anybody-don't you think so, Claude?'

'Certainly.'

'Claude, do you know there is nothing I wish so much as to save somebody's life. It was very nice to save the dragon-fly; and it is very nice to let flies out of spiders' webs, only they always have their legs and wings torn, and look miserable; and it was very nice to put the poor little thrushes back into their nest when they tumbled out, and then to see their mother come to feed them; and it was very pleasant to help the poor goose that had put its head through the pales, and could not get it back. Mrs. Harrington said it would have been strangled if I had not helped it. That was very nice, but how delightful it would be to save some real human person's life.'

Claude did not laugh at the odd medley in her speech, but answered, 'Well, those little things train you in readiness and kindness.'

'Will they?' said Phyllis, pressing on to express what had long been her earnest wish. 'If I could but save some one, I should not mind being killed myself-I think not-I hope it is not naughty to say so. I believe there is something in the Bible about it, about laying down one's life for one's friend.'

'There is, Phyl, and I quite agree with you; it must be a great blessing to have saved some one.'

'And little girls have sometimes done it, Claude. I know a story of one who saved her little brother from drowning, and another waked the people when the house was on fire. And when I was at Broomhill, Marianne showed me a story of a young lady who helped to save the Prince, that Prince Charlie that Miss Weston sings about. I wish the Prince of Wales would get into some misfortune-I should like to save him.'

'I do not quite echo that loyal wish,' said Claude.

'Well, but, Claude, Redgie wishes for a rebellion, like Sir Maurice's, for he says all the boys at his school would be one regiment, in green velvet coats, and white feathers in their hats.'

'Indeed! and Redgie to be Field Marshal?'

'No, he is to be Sir Reginald Mohun, a Knight of the Garter, and to ask the Queen to give William back the title of Baron of Beechcroft, and make papa a Duke.'

'Well done! he is to take good care of the interests of the family.'

'But it is not that that I should care about,' said Phyllis. 'I should like it better for the feeling in one's own self; I think all that fuss would rather spoil it-don't you, Claude?'

'Indeed, I do; but Phyllis, if you only wish for that feeling, you need not look for dangers or rebellions to gain it.'

'Oh! you mean the feeling that very good people indeed have- people like Harry-but that I shall never be.'

'I hope you mean to try, though.'

'I do try; I wish I was as good as Ada, but I am so naughty and so noisy that I do not know what to do. Every day when I say my prayers I think about being quiet, and not idling at my lessons, and sometimes I do stop in time, and behave better, but sometimes I forget, and I do not mind what I am about, and my voice gets loud, and I let the things tumble down and make a noise, and so it was yesterday.' Here she looked much disposed to cry.

'No, no, we will not have any crying this evening,' said Claude. 'I do not think you did me much mischief, my head ached just as much before.'

'That was a thing I wanted to ask you about: William says my crying loud is all habit, and that I must cure myself of it. How does he mean? Ought I to cry every day to practise doing it without roaring?'

'Do you like to begin,' said Claude, laughing; 'shall I beat you or pinch you?'

'Oh! it would make your head bad again,' said Phyllis; 'but I wish you would tell me what he means. When I cry I only think about what makes me unhappy.'

'Try never to cry,' said Claude; 'I assure you it is not pleasant to hear you, even when I have no headache. If you wish to do anything right, you must learn self-control, and it will be a good beginning to check yourself when you are going to cry. Do not look melancholy now. Here comes the tea. Let me see how you will perform as tea- maker.'

'I wish the evening would not go away so fast!'

'And what are we to do after tea? You are queen of the evening.'

'If you would but tell me a story, Claude.'

They lingered long over the tea-table, talking and laughing, and when they had finished, Phyllis discovered with surprise that it was nearly bedtime. The promised story was not omitted, however, and Phyllis, sitting on a little footstool at her brother's feet, looked up eagerly for it.

'Well, Phyl, I will tell you a true history that I heard from an officer who had served in the Peninsular War-the war in Spain, you know.'

'Yes, with the French, who killed their king. Lily told me.'

'And the Portuguese were helping us. Just after we had taken the town of Ciudad Rodrigo, some of the Portuguese soldiers went to find lodgings for themselves, and, entering a magazine of gunpowder, made a fire on the floor to dress their food. A most dangerous thing-do you know why?'

'The book would be burnt,' said Phyllis.

'What book, you wise child?'

'The Magazine; I thought a magazine was one of the paper books that Maurice is always reading.'

'Oh!' said Claude, laughing, 'a magazine is a store, and as many different things are stored in those books, they