but luckily against the door, so that in a
moment or two I became conscious of Aunt Elizabeth standing over me
and regarding me as a culprit caught red-handed in some atrocious
crime.

"Hoity-toity! What's the matter now? Why, it's Jasper! Well, of
all the freaks, to come knocking us up! What's the matter with the
boy? Jasper, what ails you?"

Incoherently I told my story, at first to Aunt Elizabeth alone, but
presently, in answer to her call, Uncle Loveday came down to hear.
The pair stood silent and wondering.

They were not elaborately dressed. Aunt Elizabeth, it is true, was
smothered from head to foot in a gigantic Inverness cape, that might
have been my uncle's were it not obviously too large for that little
man. Her nightcap, on the other hand, was ostentatiously her own.
No other woman would have had strength of mind to wear such a
head-dress. Uncle Loveday's costume was even more singular; for the
first time I saw him without a single brass button, and for the first
time I understood how much he owed to those decorations. His first
words were--

"Jasper, I hope you are telling me the truth. Your mother told me
yesterday of some cock-and-bull story concerning the _Anna Maria_ or
some such vessel. I hope this is not another such case. I have told
you often enough where little boys who tell falsehoods go to."

My white face must have been voucher for my truth on this occasion;
for Aunt Elizabeth cut him short with the single word "Breakfast,"
and haled me into the little parlour whilst the pair went to dress.

As I waited, I heard the sound of the pony without, and presently
Aunt Elizabeth returned in her ordinary costume to worry the small
servant who laid breakfast. Whether Uncle Loveday ever had that meal
I do not know to this day, for whilst it was being prepared I saw him
get into the little carriage and drive off towards Lantrig. I was
told that I could not go until I had eaten; and so with a sore heart,
but no thought of disobedience, I turned to breakfast.

The meal had scarcely begun when the door opened and Master Thomas
Loveday sauntered into the room. Master Thomas Loveday, a youth of
some eight summers, was, in default of a home of his own, quartered
permanently upon my uncle, whose brother's son he was. His early
days had been spent in India. After, however, both father and mother
had succumbed to the climate of Madras, he was sent home to England,
and had taken root in Liza