absent from his shoulder, where it sat quivering and bending backwards
its graceful head.

Lucilla, now nearly fourteen, looked younger from the unusual smallness
of her stature, and the exceeding delicacy of her features and
complexion, and she would never have been imagined to be two years the
senior of the handsome-faced, large-limbed young Saxon who had so far
outstripped her in height; and yet there was something in those deep blue
eyes, that on a second glance proclaimed a keen intelligence as much
above her age as her appearance was below it.

'What's the matter?' said she, rather suddenly.

'Yes, sweetest Honey,' added the boy, 'you look bothered. Is that rascal
not paying his rent?'

'No!' she said, 'it is a different matter entirely. What do you think of
an invitation to Castle Blanch?'

'For us all?' asked Owen.

'Yes, all, to meet your Uncle Christopher, the last week in August.'

'Why can't he come here?' asked Lucilla.

'I believe we must go,' said Honora. 'You ought to know both your
uncles, and they should be consulted before Owen goes to school.'

'I wonder if they will examine me,' said Owen. 'How they will stare to
find Sweet Honey's teaching as good as all their preparatory schools.'

'Conceited boy.'

'I'm not conceited--only in my teacher. Mr. Henderson said I should take
as good a place as Robert Fulmort did at Winchester, after four years in
that humbugging place at Elverslope.'

'We can't go!' cried Lucilla. 'It's the last week of Robin's holidays!'

'Well done, Lucy!' and both Honor and Owen laughed heartily.

'It is nothing to me,' said she, tossing her head, 'only I thought Cousin
Honor thought it good for him.'

'You may stay at home to do him good,' laughed Owen; 'I'm sure I don't
want him. You are very welcome, such a bore as he is.'

'Now, Owen.'

'Honey dear, I do take my solemn affidavit that I have tried my utmost to
be friends with him,' said Owen; 'but he is such a fellow--never has the
least notion beyond Winchester routine--Latin and Greek, cricket and
football.'

'You'll soon be a schoolboy yourself,' said Lucilla.

'Then I shan't make such an ass of myself,' returned Owen.

'Robin is a very good boy, I believe,' said Honor.

'That's the worst of him!' cried Lucilla, running away and clapping the
door after her as she went.

'Well, I don't know,' said Owen, very seriously, 'he says he does not
care about the Saints' days because he has no one to