nt old instrument that actually shook on its legs as he
struck the chords.

"I suspect it was mere accident brought it here," said Augustus. "It was
invalided out of the girls' schoolroom, and sent up here to be got rid
of."

"Sing us something, Cutty," said Jack; "it will be a real boon at this
moment."

"I'll sing like a grove of nightingales for you, when I have wet my
lips; but I am parched in the mouth, like a Cape parrot. I 've had two
hours of your governor below stairs. Very dry work, I promise you."

"Did he offer you nothing to drink?" asked Jack.

"Yes, we had two bottles of very tidy claret. He called it 'Mouton.'"

"By Jove!" said Augustus, "you must have been high in the governor's
favor to be treated to his 'Bra Mouton.'"

"We had a round with the gloves, nevertheless," said Cutbill, "and
exchanged some ugly blows. I don't exactly know about what or how it
began, or even how it ended; but I know there was a black eye somewhere.
He's passionate, rather."

"He has the spirit that should animate every gentleman," said Temple.

"That's exactly what _I_ have. I 'll stand anything, I don't care
what, if it be fun. Say it's a 'joke,' and you'll never see me show bad
temper; but if any fellow tries it on with me because he fancies himself
a swell, or has a handle to his name, he 'll soon discover his mistake.
Old Culduff began that way. You 'd laugh if you saw how he floundered
out of the swamp afterwards."

"Tell us about it, Cutty," said Jack, encouragingly.

"I beg to say I should prefer not hearing anything which might, even
by inference, reflect on a person holding Lord Culduff's position in my
profession," said Temple, haughtily.

"Is that the quarter the wind 's in?" asked Cutbill, with a not very
sober expression in his face.

"Sing us a song, Cutty. It will be better than all this sparring," said
Jack.

"What shall it be?" said Cutbill, seating himself at the piano, and
running over the keys with no small skill. "Shall I describe my journey
to Ireland?"

"By all means let's hear it," said Augustus.

"I forget how it goes. Indeed, some verses I was making on the curate's
sister have driven the others out of my head."

Jack drew nigh, and leaning over his shoulder, whispered something in
his ear.

"What!" cried Cutbill, starting up; "he says he'll pitch me neck and
crop out of the window."

"Not unless you deserve it--add that," said Jack, sternly.

"I must have an apology for th