all;"
and Uncle Paul leaned forward, took a pin out of the edge of his
waistcoat, and began to prick at and try to raise the wick of the
reflecting microscope lamp.

Then there was a little catastrophe, for after a most vigorous
application of the pin the wick seemed to resent it as if it were some
kind of sea worm, and drew back out of reach into its little brass cell.

"There, now I've done it!" said Uncle Paul. "Did you ever see anything
so tiresome in your life, Pickle?"

"Yahah!" sighed the boy slowly.

"Why, what are you doing? Yawning!" cried Uncle Paul. "You are about
the sleepiest chap I ever knew. There, I am afraid I shall have to wait
for to-morrow morning's sunshine. Clear away, or help me. Let's put
everything on a side-table, and I'll tell Mrs Champernowne that she
isn't to touch what she sees there."

"Yes, uncle," said the boy, with something like alacrity, as the table
was cleared and the candles re-snuffed, the effect of opening and
shutting the snuffers seeming to act upon Rodd and making him yawn
widely, while quite involuntarily Uncle Paul did the same. "Now then,"
said Uncle Paul.

"Aren't we going to bed, uncle?" said Rodd eagerly. "Bed? Nonsense!
Because we are in a country place where people like going to bed almost
in the middle of the day and getting up in the middle of the night, do
you think we need follow their example? Absurd! I want to talk to you
about some of the wonderful things I captured to-day. The waters on the
moor swarm with the most beautiful limpid specimens."

Rodd sighed softly, and put his hand before his mouth to stop a yawn.

"Oh, by the way," said Uncle Paul, "did you change your trousers when
you went up to wash?"

"No, uncle; they didn't want it."

"Weren't they damp?"

"No, uncle; I only got my shoes wet, and they were pretty well dry when
I got home. Besides, you had got my other trousers in the big
portmanteau in your room."

"Well, you could have come and fetched them. Always be careful to
change damp things.--Come in!"

There had been a soft tap at the door, and Mrs Champernowne appeared.

"I beg pardon, sir, but what would you like for breakfast in the
morning?"

"Breakfast, Mrs Champernowne? Nothing."

"Oh, I say, uncle!" said Rodd sharply. "We seem to have eaten enough
this evening to last us for twenty-four hours."

"Oh no, sir," said the landlady. "Excuse me, but our moorland air will
make you think very differently to-