Here you, sir: I always knew that you'd make me
repent. How came you to break that vase?"

"I didn't, sir," said Tom quietly; "Sam caught hold of it as he was
falling."

Sam was lying insensible the moment before, but this was reviving.

"I didn't, father; he knocked me down, and then seized the vase and
dashed it at me."

"Yes, yes," cried Mrs Brandon, as Sam lapsed into insensibility once
more. "The wretch has had a spite against his cousin ever since he has
been here. Oh, my darling, darling boy!"

Sam uttered a low groan which made his mother shriek and fling herself
down by him again.

"Oh, Mary! cook!" she cried, "help--help!"

"Yes, mum," said the former; "shall I bring a dustpan and brush, and
take up the bits?"

"No, no! Water--sponge--help!"

"Indeed, indeed, I did not break the vase," pleaded Tom, as his uncle
suddenly caught him by the collar and drew a gold-headed malacca cane
from the umbrella-stand.

"I'll soon see about that," said Mr Brandon, with a fierce drawing-in
of the breath.

"Yes; beat him, beat him well, James, the wretch, the cruel wretch, and
then turn him out of the house."

"Don't you interfere," cried Mr Brandon, with a snap. Then to Tom--"I
suppose you'll say you were not fighting?"

"Yes, sir, I was fighting; but Sam began at me, and all because I
wouldn't screen him to-day."

"Hah! never mind that," said Mr Brandon.

"Don't beat me, sir," pleaded Tom, excitedly. "I can't bear it."

"You'll have to bear it, my fine fellow. Here, come into the library."

"Yes, James, beat the wretch well," cried Mrs Brandon. "Oh, my
darling, does it hurt you very much?"

"Oh!" groaned Sam, and his mother shrieked; while a struggle was going
on between Tom and his uncle, the boy resisting with all his might.

"He has killed him! he has killed him!" sobbed Mrs Brandon; "and you
stand there, cook, doing nothing."

"Well, mum, what can I do? I'm wanted down-stairs. Them soles is
a-burning in the frying-pan. You can smell 'em up here."

"Yes; nice preparations for company," said Mr Brandon, stopping to
pant, for Tom had seized the plinth at the foot of the balustrade and
held on with all his might. "Go down in the kitchen, cook, and see to
the dinner."

The cook turned to go, but stopped short and turned back.

"Oh, my darling! my darling!" cried Mrs Brandon.

"Oh-h-h-h!" groaned Sam.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said cook, speaking very loudly, "but please
you ain't