you meant me to use it," cried Mercer, taking the blows
good-humouredly enough. "Oh, I say, don't! you hurt!"

"Mischievous beggar!" said my senior taking the book and marching off.

"Go on! Ask your father to buy you a new one," cried Mercer derisively,
as he applied a piece of blotting-paper to one leg of his trousers.
"Hiss! Goose!"

"Do you wish me to come back and thrash you, Tom Mercer," said the tall
boy, with a lordly manner.

"No, sir, thank-ye, sir; please don't, and I'll never do so no more,
sir."

"Miserable beggar," said Burr major. "Here, Dicksee, come down the
field and bowl for me. Bring five or six little uns to field."

"Yah! Tailor!" said Mercer, as his bully marched out.

"I'll tell him what you said," cried Dicksee.

"Hullo, Penny loaf! you there? Yes, you'd better tell him. Just you
come to me for some physic, and you'll see how I'll serve you."

"Don't ketch me taking any of your stuff again," cried the big, fat,
sneering-looking fellow. "I'll tell him, and you'll see."

"Go and tell him then," said Mercer contemptuously. "So he is a tailor,
and his father's a tailor. Why, I saw his name on a brass plate in Cork
Street."

"So's your father got his name on a brass plate," sneered Dicksee.

"Well, what of that? My father's a professional gentleman. Here, come
on, Burr, and I'll show you round. Hooray! the sun's come through the
mist. Where's your cap? All right. You'll have to get a square
trencher by next Sunday. This way."

He led me out into the big playground, and turned.

"Ain't a bad house, is it? Some big lord used to live here, and Magglin
says his father says it was empty for years, and it was sold cheap at
last to the Doctor, who only used to have four boys at first."

"Who's Magglin?"

"Ha, ha!" laughed Mercer; "he calls himself a gardener because he comes
here to help dig, but I know: he's a poacher, that's what he is. You
ask Hopley."

"But I don't know Hopley," I said, laughing.

"You soon will. He's General Rye's keeper. I buy birds off him to
stuff."

"What, geese?" I said, as I recalled that my companion spoke about a
goose just before.

"Geese? no. Magpies and jays and hawks. I stuff 'em with tow; I'll
show you how. Old Hopley says Magglin's a rank poacher, and first time
he catches him on their grounds he'll pull him up before his master, you
know. General's a magistrate. But he won't catch him. Magg's too
artful. I say, got