ry pleasant occupation, and in this, after the first week of his
stay, Jack was not a whit behind the others.

He was sitting one morning on a corner of the table, watching with
great interest his aunt's dexterous use of the rolling-pin.

"Well, Jack," she said, looking up for a moment to straighten her back,
"are you sorry I made you come to Brenlands?"

"No, rather not; I never enjoyed myself so much before. I should like
to stay here always."

"What! and never go home again?"

The moment that word was mentioned he was once more Fenleigh J. of the
Upper Fourth.

"Home!" he said; "I hate the place. I've got no friends I care for,
and the guv'nor's always complaining of something, and telling me he
can't afford to waste the money he does on my education, because I
don't learn anything. I do think I'm the most unlucky beggar under the
sun. I've got nothing to look forward to. But I don't care. When I'm
older I'll cut the whole show, and go away and enlist. Any road, I
won't stay longer than I can help at Padbury."

Queen Mab smiled, and went on cutting out the covering for an
apple-tart.

"I know you like soldiers," she said; "well, listen to this. Just
before the battle of Waterloo, the father of Sir Henry Lawrence was in
charge of the garrison at Ostend. He knew that some great action was
going to take place, and wished very much to take part in it; so he
wrote to Wellington, reminding him that they had fought together in the
Peninsular War, and asking leave to pick out the best of the troops
then under his command and come with them to the front. The duke sent
him back this reply,--'That he remembered him well, and believed he was
too good a soldier to wish for any other post than the one which was
given to him.'"

"You're preaching at me," said Jack suspiciously; "it's altogether
different in my case."

"No, I'm not preaching; I'm only telling you a story. Now go and find
my little Bar, and say I've got some bits of dough left, and if she
likes she can come and make a pasty."

Barbara came, and Jack assisted her in the manufacture of two shapeless
little turn-overs, which contained an extraordinary mixture of apples,
currants, sugar, and a sprinkling of cocoa put in "to see what it would
taste like." But the boy's attention was not given wholly to the work,
his mind was partly occupied with something else. He wandered over and
stood at the opposite end of the table, watching Queen Mab as sh