trellised the porch,
ammonites heaped the grass-plat, tubs of sea-water flanked the approach
to the front door; and more than one bowl, with inmates of a suspicious
nature, was often deposited even on the parlour table.

On the afternoon following the expedition to Bickleypool, Louis was
seated, with an earthenware pan before him, coaxing an actinia with raw
beef to expand her blossom, to be copied for Miss Faithfull. Another
bowl stood near, containing some feathery serpulas; and the weeds were
heaped on the locker of the window behind him, and on the back of the
chair which supported his lame foot. The third and only remaining
chair accommodated James, with a book placed on the table; and a
semicircle swept round it, within which nothing marine might extend.

Louis was by turns drawing, enticing his refractory sitter, exhorting
her to bloom, and complimenting her delicate beauty, until James, with
a groan, exclaimed, 'Is silence impossible to you, Fitzjocelyn? I would
go into the garden, but that I should be beset by the intolerable old
skipper!'

'I beg your pardon--I thought you never heard nor heeded me.'

'I don't in general, but this requires attention; and it is past all
bearing to hear how you go on to that Jelly!'

'Read aloud, then: it will answer two purposes.

'This is Divinity--Hooker,' said James, sighing wearily.

'So much the better. I read some once; I wish I had been obliged to go
on.'

'You are the oddest fellow!--After all, I believe you have a craving
after my profession.'

'Is that a discovery?' said Louis, washing the colour out of his brush.
'The only person I envy is a country curate--except a town one.'

'Don't talk like affectation!' growled James.

'Do you know, Jem,' said Louis, leaning back, and drawing the brush
between his lips, 'I am persuaded that something will turn up to
prevent it from being your profession.'

'Your persuasions are wrong, then!'

'That fabulous uncle in the Indies--'

'You know I am determined to accept nothing from my uncle, were he to
lay it at my feet--which he never will.'

'Literally or metaphorically?' asked Louis, softly.

'Pshaw!'

'You Dynevors don't resemble my sea-pink. See how she stretches her
elegant fringes for this very unpleasant bit of meat! There! I won't
torment you any more; read, and stop my mouth!'

'You are in earnest?'

'You seem to think that if a man cannot be a clergyman, he is not to be
a Christian.'

'The