chool a whole year earlier than his people meant to
send him. Which was just what he wanted. So you see it all came right in
the end!'

I was trying to puzzle out the moral of this story--it was evidently
meant to contain one somewhere--when a flood of golden lamplight mingled
with the moon-rays on the lawn, and Aunt Maria and the new curate
strolled out on the grass below us, and took the direction of a
garden-seat which was backed by a dense laurel shrubbery reaching round
in a half-circle to the house. Edward meditated moodily. 'If we only
knew what they were talking about,' said he, 'you'd soon see whether I
was right or not. Look here! Let's send the kid down by the porch to
reconnoitre!'

'Harold's asleep,' I said; 'it seems rather a shame----'

'O rot!' said my brother; 'he's the youngest, and he's got to do as he's
told!'

So the luckless Harold was hauled out of bed and given his
sailing-orders. He was naturally rather vexed at being stood up suddenly
on the cold floor, and the job had no particular interest for him; but
he was both staunch and well disciplined. The means of exit were simple
enough. A porch of iron trellis came up to within easy reach of the
window, and was habitually used by all three of us, when modestly
anxious to avoid public notice. Harold climbed deftly down the porch
like a white rat, and his night-gown glimmered a moment on the gravel
walk ere he was lost to sight in the darkness of the shrubbery. A brief
interval of silence ensued; broken suddenly by a sound of scuffle, and
then a shrill long-drawn squeal, as of metallic surfaces in friction.
Our scout had fallen into the hands of the enemy!

Indolence alone had made us devolve the task of investigation on our
younger brother. Now that danger had declared itself, there was no
hesitation. In a second we were down the side of the porch, and crawling
Cherokee-wise through the laurels to the back of the garden-seat.
Piteous was the sight that greeted us. Aunt Maria was on the seat, in a
white evening frock, looking--for an aunt--really quite nice. On the
lawn stood an incensed curate, grasping our small brother by a large
ear, which--judging from the row he was making--seemed on the point of
parting company with the head it completed and adorned. The gruesome
noise he was emitting did not really affect us otherwise than
aesthetically. To one who has tried both, the wail of genuine physical
anguish is easily distinguishable from the p