r sincerity.

Sir Roderick Ayre allowed few things to surprise him, but the fact of
any one deliberately starting by the early train was one of the few. In
regard to such conduct, he retained all his youthful capacity for
wonder. Surprise, however, gave way to unrestrained and indecent
exultation when he learned that the early party had consisted of Kate
and Haddington, and that Eugene himself had escorted them to the
station. Eugene was in too good a temper to be seriously annoyed.

"I know it makes me look an ass," he said, as they smoked the
after-breakfast pipe, "but I suppose that's all in the day's work."

"No doubt. It is the day's work," said Ayre; "but, oh, diplomatic young
man, why didn't you tell us at breakfast that the pope had also gone?"

"Oh, you know that?"

"Of course. My man Timmins brings me what I may call a way-bill every
morning, and against Stafford's name was placed '8.30 train.'"

"Useful man, Timmins," said Eugene. "Did he happen to add why he had
gone?"

"There are limitations even to Timmins. He did not."

"You can guess?"

"Well, I suppose I can," answered Ayre, with some resentment.

"He's given it up, apparently."

"I don't know."

"He must have. Awfully cut up he looked, poor old chap! I was glad Kate
and Haddington didn't see him."

"Poor chap! He takes it hard. Hallo! here's the _fons et origo mali_."

Morewood joined them.

"I have been," he said gravely, "rescuing my picture. That insipid
lunatic had wrapped it up in brown paper, and put it among his socks in
his portmanteau. I couldn't see it anywhere till I routed out the
portmanteau. If it had come to grief I should have entered the Academy."

"Don't give way so," said Ayre; "it's unmanly. Control your emotions."

Eugene rose.

"Where are you going?"

Eugene smiled.

"This," said Ayre to Morewood, with a wave of his hand, "is an abandoned
young man."

"It is," said Morewood. "Bob Territon is going rat-hunting, and proposes
we shall also go. What say you?"

"I say yes," said Sir Roderick, with alacrity. "It's a beastly cruel
sport."

"You have lost," said Morewood, as they walked away together.

"Wait a bit!" said his companion. "But, young Eugene! It's a pity that
young man has no morals."

"Is that so?"

"Oh! not _simpliciter_, you know. _Secundum quid_."

"_Secundum feminam_, in fact?"

"Yes; and I brought him up, too."

"'By their fruits ye shall know them.' But here's Bob and the terriers