matters
in which he was innocent, he had been accused of wishing to "show
off." He had "shown off" before visitors when he had attacked a
strange gentleman--Harry's uncle, not his own--with requests for
information about the Griffin and the falchion, and the precise nature
of the Tilbury in which Frank Fairlegh rode--all points of paramount
interest which he was bursting to understand. Clearly it would not do
to pretend to care for Aunty Rosa.

At this point Harry entered and stood afar off, eying Punch, a
disheveled heap in the corner of the room, with disgust.

"You're a liar--a young liar," said Harry, with great unction, "and
you're to have tea down here because you're not fit to speak to us.
And you're not to speak to Judy again till Mother gives you leave.
You'll corrupt her. You're only fit to associate with the servant.
Mother says so."

Having reduced Punch to a second agony of tears Harry departed
upstairs with the news that Punch was still rebellious.

Uncle Harry sat uneasily in the dining-room. "D---- it all, Rosa,"
said he at last, "can't you leave the child alone? He's a good enough
little chap when I meet him."

"He puts on his best manners with you, Henry," said Aunty Rosa, "but
I'm afraid, I'm very much afraid, that he is the Black Sheep of the
family."

Harry heard and stored up the name for future use. Judy cried till she
was bidden to stop, her brother not being worth tears; and the evening
concluded with the return of Punch to the upper regions and a private
sitting at which all the blinding horrors of Hell were revealed to
Punch with such store of imagery as Aunty Rosa's narrow mind
possessed.

Most grievous of all was Judy's round-eyed reproach, and Punch went to
bed in the depths of the Valley of Humiliation. He shared his room
with Harry and knew the torture in store. For an hour and a half he
had to answer that young gentleman's question as to his motives for
telling a lie, and a grievous lie, the precise quantity of punishment
inflicted by Aunty Rosa, and had also to profess his deep gratitude
for such religious instruction as Harry thought fit to impart.

From that day began the downfall of Punch, now Black Sheep.

"Untrustworthy in one thing, untrustworthy in all," said Aunty Rosa,
and Harry felt that Black Sheep was delivered into his hands. He
would wake him up in the night to ask him why he was such a liar.

"I don't know," Punch would reply.

"Then don't you think you ou