rs Paddy there
with the curls."

Miss Stringer appeared to receive another shock at this piece of
information, which, however, Telson, flattered by her evident interest
in his remarks, did not take to heart.

"And," said she, presently, with a slight nervousness in her voice, "I
hope you like them?"

"Oh," blurted out Telson, "Paddy's not so bad, but the dame's an old
beast, you know--at least, so fellows say. I say," added he, "don't you
tell her I said so!"

Miss Stringer regarded him with a peculiar smile, which the boy at once
took to mean a promise. So he rattled on. "And she's got a sister, or
somebody hangs about the place, worse than any of them. Why, when old
Wynd--"

"And," said Miss Stringer, suddenly--"and which house are you in--in the
schoolhouse?"

"Hullo, then! you know Willoughby?" demanded Telson sharply.

Miss Stringer looked confused, as well she might, but replied, "Ah! all
public schools have a schoolhouse, have they not?"

"I suppose so," said Telson. "Yes, I'm a schoolhouse fellow. I'm the
captain's fag, you know--old Riddell."

"Mr Riddell is the captain, then?"

"Rather! Do you know him?"

Poor Miss Stringer! How sad it is, to be sure, when once we go astray.
She, the Griffin of Willoughby, was as much at the mercy of this honest
unconscious fag as if he had caught her in the act of picking a pocket.
For how could she reveal herself now?

"I--I think I met him once," she said.

"Where? at his home, was it?" asked Telson, who seemed to be urged by a
most fiendish curiosity on the subject.

"No," faltered the lady; "it was--er--I think it was at Dr Patrick's."

"Very likely," said Telson. "He was up there to tea, I know, just
before he was made captain. But I didn't know any one else was there
except Paddy and his hyenas."

"His what, sir!" exclaimed Miss Stringer, in a voice which nearly
startled Telson off the sofa.

"I mean, you know, the fellows--?"

"And where do you live at home?" asked Miss Stringer, determined to
steer clear of this awkward topic.

"Oh, London," said Telson; "do you know London?"

"Yes--it is indeed a wonderful place," said Miss Stringer, "and
whereabouts does your father live?"

"Oh, my governor's in India," began Telson.

"Your who?" said Miss Stringer, with a feeble attempt at severity.

"My dad, you know; and I live with my grandfather. Jolly old boy. He
was at Willoughby when he was a boy. Did you know him then? I expect