sic; I
would have made you a Knight of the Golden Fleece on the spot. Tutors I
could get by shoals, but a fellow-dunce is inestimable.'

'It is a bargain, then,' said Guy; 'if Philip has done with the book and
will lend it to us.'

The luncheon bell rang, and they all adjourned to the dining-room. Mr.
Edmonstone came in when luncheon was nearly over, rejoicing that his
letters were done, but then he looked disconsolately from the window,
and pitied the weather. 'Nothing for it but billiards. People might say
it was nonsense to have a billiard-table in such a house, but for his
part he found there was no getting through a wet day without them.
Philip must beat him as usual, and Guy might have one of the young
ladies to make a fourth.'

'Thank you,' said Guy, 'but I don't play.'

'Not play--eh?' Well, we will teach you in the spinning of a ball, and
I'll have my little Amy to help me against you and Philip.'

'No, thank you,' repeated Guy, colouring, 'I am under a promise.'

'Ha! Eh? What? Your grandfather? He could see no harm in such play as
this. For nothing, you understand. You did not suppose I meant anything
else?'

'O no, of course not,' eagerly replied Guy; 'but it is impossible for me
to play, thank you. I have promised never even to look on at a game at
billiards.'

'Ah, poor man, he had too much reason.' uttered Mr. Edmonstone to
himself, but catching a warning look from his wife, he became suddenly
silent. Guy, meanwhile, sat looking lost in sad thoughts, till, rousing
himself, he exclaimed, 'Don't let me prevent you.'

Mr. Edmonstone needed but little persuasion, and carried Philip off to
the billiard-table in the front hall.

'O, I am so glad!' cried Charlotte, who had, within the last week,
learnt Guy's value as a playfellow. 'Now you will never go to those
stupid billiards, but I shall have you always, every rainy day. Come and
have a real good game at ball on the stairs.'

She already had hold of his hand, and would have dragged him off at
once, had he not waited to help Charles back to his sofa; and in the
mean time she tried in vain to persuade her more constant playmate,
Amabel, to join the game. Poor little Amy regretted the being obliged to
refuse, as she listened to the merry sounds and bouncing balls, sighing
more than once at having turned into a grown-up young lady; while Philip
observed to Laura, who was officiating as billiard-marker, that Guy was
still a mere boy.

The fates fa