in's animosity for the tutor, by the way, stopped
short at withdrawing his son from the benefit of the gratuitous
education of which for the last year that youth had been the recipient)
was trundling a "boneshaker" bicycle along the Yeld lanes, when he
perceived the jaunty form of Mr Ratman, bag in hand and cigar in mouth,
strolling leisurely in the direction of Maxfield.

Tom, who was only a beginner in the art of cycling, was so taken aback
by this apparition, that, after one or two furious lurches from one side
of the road to the other, and a frantic effort to keep his balance, he
came ignominiously to the ground at the very feet of the visitor.

"Hullo!" said that worthy; "as full of fun as ever, I see."

"Hullo, Ratty!" said Tom, picking himself up; "got over your kicking?"

This genial reference to the circumstances under which the so-called
lost heir had last quitted Maxfield grated somewhat harshly on the
feelings of the gentleman to whom it was addressed.

"Look here, young fellow," said he, "you'd better keep a civil tongue in
your head, or I shall have to pull your ear."

"Try it," retorted Tom.

Mr Ratman seemed inclined to accept the invitation; but as he was
anxious for information just now, he decided to forego the experiment.

"Is your father at home?" he demanded.

"Rather. You'd better go back the way you came. We know all about you
up there," said Tom.

"That's all right. And how are your pretty sisters, Tommy?"

If any insult more than another could disturb the temper of Master
Oliphant, it was to be called "Tommy," as many of the rustic youths of
the neighbourhood knew to their cost. He therefore replied shortly,
"Find out," and proceeded to address himself to the task of remounting
his machine.

"That's what I'm going to do. Here, let me hold it for you, or you'll
break your neck."

"Look here," said the outraged Tom, thoroughly roused by this crowning
indignity, "I don't want to be seen out here talking to cads. I don't
mind fighting you. If you don't care for that, keep your cheek to
yourself, and go and talk to somebody who's fond of rot. I'm not." And
the young bruiser, who had an uncommonly broad pair of shoulders, looked
so threatening that Mr Ratman began to feel a little concerned.

"Ha, ha!" said he, "how well you do it! I always liked you, Tommy, my
boy. I'll let your tutor know what a credit you are to him."

"I wish to goodness Armstrong was at home," growled