for him, and to have to wait in what he called, after
some one whom he had heard make use of the term, a state of mental
anxiety, was something hard to be borne.

Arthur calmly took a book, after glancing in the glass to see if his
collar was quite right and his hair properly brushed. He could sit and
read in the most placid manner; but Dick seemed to have quicksilver in
his toes and fingers. He could not keep still, but was always on the
fret to be doing something.

In his eagerness to help he got into trouble three times with his
father, his aid being given invariably at the wrong time, and generally
resulting in his knocking over some bottle, disturbing a test, or
breaking some delicate piece of apparatus.

"I'm very sorry, father, I am indeed," he would say.

"Nobody doubts your sorrow, Dick," cried Mr Temple; "but what I want is
less sorrow and more care. You blunder on at everything instead of
making a bit of a calculation first so as to see what you are about to
do."

"Well, I will, father, I will really. I'll always in future be as
careful as--careful as--careful as Taff."

Dick had been looking round the room for an example of care, and this
suggested itself.

Mr Temple smiled, and bent down over his minerals so that his boys
should not see his face, as he noticed Arthur's ears turn red and a
nervous twitch go through him preparatory to his looking up from his
book.

"No," said Mr Temple, "I do not wish you to be as careful as Arthur, my
boy, or to take anyone else for a model. Be just your own natural self,
and do your best to run straight on your journey through life. Don't
try to run like others run; it may not always be in a good style."

Arthur's eyes fell upon his book once more, and his ears became of a
very deep crimson as he felt injured and touched in his dignity.

"Papa might have said _yes_, and told Dick to imitate me," thought
Arthur; and he went on with his reading, feeling very much ill used.

"Mr Marion would like to speak to you, sir," said the landlord, coming
in just then.

"What, Will?" cried Dick eagerly.

"No, Master Richard. I shouldn't have called him Mr Marion," said the
landlord, smiling. "It's the old gentleman. May I show him in, sir?"

"Yes, certainly;" and Uncle Abram came in, looking like a Finnan haddock
in a glazed hat, for on account of the weather the old man was clothed
from head to foot in yellow oilskins, and shone and twinkled with the
drops of