to my old friends," said he. "You forget
how long we've been parted. Where's Percy?"

"Walker has gone to tell him."

"I think he is out," said the young lady; "he told me he was going down
to the river."

"I consider," said Mrs Rimbolt rather severely, "he should tell _me_
what he is going to do, not you."

"But, aunt, I didn't ask him. He volunteered it."

"Fetch your uncle's cup, Raby."

Raby's mouth puckers up into a queer little smile as she obeys.

Walker appears in a minute to confirm the report of Master Percy's
absence. "He's been gone this three hours, mem."

"Let some one go for him at once, Walker."

"I get so terrified when he goes off like this," says the mother;
"there's no knowing what may happen, and he is so careless."

"He has a safe neck," replies the father; "he always does turn up. But
if you are so fidgety, why don't you send Raby to look after him?"

"If any one went with him, it would need to be some one who, instead of
encouraging him in his odd ways, would keep him in hand, and see he did
not come to any harm."

"Oh," says Raby, laughing, "he wouldn't take me with him if I paid him a
hundred pounds. He says girls don't know anything about science and
inventions."

"He is probably right," observes Mrs Rimbolt severely.

"Certainly, as regards the science _he_ practises," says her husband.
"What was it he had in hand last week? Some invention for making people
invisible by painting them with invisible paint? Ha! ha! He invited me
to let him try it on me."

"He _did_ try it on me," chimes in Raby.

"It is nothing to laugh about," says the mother; "it is much better for
him to be of an inquiring turn of mind than--idle," adds she, looking
significantly at her niece's empty hand.

"It strikes me it is we who are of an inquiring turn of mind just now,"
said the father. "I fancy he'll turn up. He generally does.
Meanwhile, I will go and finish my writing." And he politely retires.

"Raby, my dear," says Mrs Rimbolt--Raby always knows what is coming
when a sentence begins thus--"Raby, my dear, it does not sound nice to
hear you making fun of your cousin. Percy is very good to you--"

"Oh yes!" interrupts Raby, almost enthusiastically.

"Which makes it all the less nice on your part to make a laughing-stock
of him in the presence of his own father. It may seem unlikely that
people should be rendered invisible--"

Mrs Rimbolt stops, conscious she is about to talk