shall
never forget Guy's passion; I am sure I don't exaggerate when I say he
was perfectly beside himself with anger.'

'Poor boy!' said Mrs. Edmonstone.

'Served the rascal right,' said Charles.

'Nothing had any effect on him till his grandfather came out, and, at
the sight of him, he was tamed in an instant, hung his head, came up to
his grandfather, and said--"I am very sorry," Sir Guy answered, "My poor
boy!" and there was not another word. I saw Guy no more that day, and
all the next he was quiet and subdued. But the most remarkable part of
the story is to come. A couple of days afterwards we were walking in
the woods, when, at the sound of Guy's whistle, we heard a flapping and
rustling, and beheld, tumbling along, with their clipped wings, these
two identical hawks, very glad to be caught. They drew themselves up
proudly for him to stroke them, and their yellow eyes looked at him with
positive affection.'

'Pretty creatures!' said Amabel. 'That is a very nice end to the story.'

'It is not the end,' said Philip. 'I was surprised to see Guy so sober,
instead of going into one of his usual raptures. He took them home; but
the first thing I heard in the morning was, that he was gone to offer
them to a farmer, to keep the birds from his fruit.'

'Did he do it of his own accord?' asked Laura.

'That was just what I wanted to know; but any hint about them brought
such a cloud over his face that I thought it would be wanton to irritate
him by questions. However, I must be going. Good-bye, Amy, I hope your
Camellia will have another blossom before I come back. At least, I shall
escape the horticultural meeting.'

'Good-bye,' said Charles. 'Put the feud in your pocket till you can
bury it in old Sir Guy's grave, unless you mean to fight it out with his
grandson, which would be more romantic and exciting.'

Philip was gone before he could finish. Mrs. Edmonstone looked annoyed,
and Laura said, 'Charlie, I wish you would not let your spirits carry
you away.'

'I wish I had anything else to carry me away!' was the reply.

'Yes,' said his mother, looking sadly at him. 'Your high spirits are a
blessing; but why misuse them? If they are given to support you through
pain and confinement, why make mischief with them?'

Charles looked more impatient than abashed, and the compunction seemed
chiefly to rest with Amabel.

'Now,' said Mrs. Edmonstone, 'I must go and see after my poor little
prisoner.'

'Ah!' said La