he cuts up ever so rough.
I must send off this bird first by the post to confute Stanhope and make
him eat dirt, and then see what's to be done.'

'Indeed, Bertie, I don't think you will see him to-night. His head is
dreadful, and Aunt Mary has sent for Mr. Trotman.'

'Whew! You have not got anything worth having, I suppose, Conny?'

'Only fifteen shillings. I meant it for-- But you shall have it, dear
Bertie, if it will only save worrying them.'

'Fifteen bob! Fifteen farthings you might as well offer. No, no, you
soft little monkey, I must see what is to be made of him or her ladyship,
one or the other, to-day or to-morrow. If they know I have been at the
place it is half the battle. Consequence was! Provided they don't smell
out this unlucky piebald! I wish Stanhope hadn't been such a beast!'

At that moment, too late to avoid her, Lady Northmoor, pale and anxious,
came up the path and was upon them. 'Your uncle is asleep,' she began,
but then, starting, 'Oh, Conny. Poor Whitewing. Did you find him?'

Constance hung her head and did not speak. Then her aunt saw how it was.

'Herbert! you must have shot him by mistake; your uncle will be so
grieved.'

Herbert was not base enough to let this pass. He muttered, 'A fellow
would not take my word for it, so I had to show him.'

She looked at him very sadly. 'Oh, Herbert, I did not think you would
have made that a reason for vexing your uncle!'

The boy was more than half sorry under those gentle eyes. He muttered
something about 'didn't think he would care.'

She shook her head, instead of saying that she knew this was not the
truth; and unable to bear the sting, he flung away from her, carrying the
rook with him, and kicking the pebbles, trying to be angry instead of
sorry. And just then came a summons to Lady Northmoor to see the doctor.

Yet Herbert Morton was a better boy than he seemed at that moment; his
errors were chiefly caused by understanding _noblesse oblige_ in a
different way from his uncle. Moreover, it would have been better for
him if his tutor had lived beyond the neighbourhood of Northmoor, where
he heard, losing nothing in the telling, the remarks of the other pupils'
mothers upon his uncle and aunt; more especially as it was not generally
the highest order of boy that was to be found there. If he had heard
what the fathers said, he would have learnt that, though shy and devoid
of small talk, and of the art of putting gu