oy, smiling.

"Not unless he speaks to you about it; then, of course, you can."

"But he won't, mother. He only talks to me about the Greek and Latin
poets and about music. I say, you don't want to see me squeezing a big
fiddle between my knees and sawing at it with a bow as if I wanted to
cut all the strings, do you, mother?"

"My dear boy, not unless you wished to learn the violoncello."

"Well, I don't," said Roy, pettishly; "but old Master Pawson is always
bringing his out of its great green-baize bag and talking to me about
it. He says that he will instruct me, and he is sure that my father
would have one sent to me from London if I asked him. Just as if there
are not noises enough in the west tower now without two of us sawing
together. _Thrrum, thrrum, throomp, throomp, throomp_!"

Roy struck an attitude as if playing, running his left hand up and down
imaginary strings while he scraped with his right, and produced no bad
imitation of the vibrating strings with his mouth.

"I should not dislike for you to play some instrument to accompany my
clavichord, Roy," said Lady Royland, smiling at the boy's antics.

"Very well, then; I'll learn the trumpet," cried the lad. "I'm off now
to learn--not music."

"One moment, Roy, my dear," said Lady Royland, earnestly. "Don't let
your high spirits get the better of your discretion."

"Of course not, mother."

"You do not understand me, my dear. I am speaking very seriously now.
I mean, do not let Master Pawson think that you ridicule his love of
music. It would be very weak and foolish, and lower you in his eyes."

"Oh, I'll mind, mother."

"Recollect that he is a scholar and a gentleman, and in your father's
confidence."

Roy nodded, and his lips parted as if to speak, but he closed them
again.

"What were you going to say, Roy?"

"Oh, nothing, mother."

"Nothing?"

"Well, only--that--I was going to say, do you like Master Pawson?"

"As your tutor and your father's secretary, yes. He is a very clever
man, I know."

"Yes, he's a very clever man," said Roy, as, after kissing his mother
affectionately, he went off towards the west tower, which had been
specially fitted up as study and bedchamber for the gentleman who had
come straight from Oxford to reside at Sir Granby Royland's seat a
couple of years before this time. "Yes, he's a very clever man," said
Roy to himself; "but I thought I shouldn't like him the first day he
came, and I've gone