him
from association with other boys. He neither learned nor played any
boyish games. In defiance of the doctor, whom she regarded as a member
of the brutal anti-Marmaduke League, Mrs. Trevor proclaimed
Marmaduke's delicacy of constitution. He must not go out into the
rain, lest he should get damp, nor into the hot sunshine, lest he
should perspire. She kept him like a precious plant in a carefully
warmed conservatory. Doggie, used to it from birth, looked on it as
his natural environment. Under feminine guidance and tuition he
embroidered and painted screens and played the piano and the mandolin,
and read Miss Charlotte Yonge and learned history from the late Mrs.
Markham. Without doubt his life was a happy one. All that he asked for
was sequestration from Oliver and his associates.

Now and then the cousins were forced to meet--at occasional children's
parties, for instance. A little daughter, Peggy, had been born in the
Deanery, replacing the lost firstborn, and festivals--to which came
the extreme youth of Durdlebury--were given in her honour. She liked
Marmaduke, who was five years her senior, because he was gentle and
clean and wore such beautiful clothes and brushed his hair so nicely;
whereas she detested Oliver, who, even at an afternoon party, looked
as if he had just come out of a rabbit-hole. Besides, Marmaduke danced
beautifully; Oliver couldn't and wouldn't, disdaining such effeminate
sports. His great joy was to put out a sly leg and send Doggie and his
partner sprawling. Once the Dean caught him at it, and called him a
horrid little beast, and threatened him with neck and crop expulsion
if he ever did it again. Doggie, who had picked himself up and
listened to the rebuke, said:

"I'm very glad to hear you talk to him like that, Uncle. I think his
behaviour is perfectly detestable."

The Dean's lips twitched and he turned away abruptly. Oliver glared at
Doggie.

"Oh, my holy aunt!" he whispered hoarsely. "Just you wait till I get
you alone!"

Oliver got him alone, an hour later, in a passage, having lain in
ambush for him, and after a few busy moments, contemplated a bruised
and bleeding Doggie blubbering in a corner.

"Do you think my behaviour is detestable now?"

"Yes," whimpered Doggie.

"I've a good mind to go on licking you until you say 'no,'" said
Oliver.

"You're a great big bully," said Doggie.

Oliver reflected. He did not like to be called a bully. "Look here,"
said he, "I'll s