Art thou a magistrate? Then be severe.—GEORGE HERBERT.
Early in the day General Mohun received a note from Clement Underwood, begging him to look in at St. Andrew’s Rock as soon as might be convenient.
“Ah,” said his sister, “I strongly suspect something wrong about the boys. Fergus was very odd and silent last night when I asked him about Jem Horner’s picnic, and he said something about that Harewood cousin being an unmitigated brute.”
“I hope Fergus was not in a scrape.”
“Oh no, it is not his way. His geology is a great safeguard. If it had been Wilfred I might have been afraid.”
“His head is full—at least as much room as the lost aralia leaves—of the examination for the Winchester College election.”
“Yes, you know Jasper has actually promised Gillian that if either of her brothers gets a scholarship, she may be allowed a year at Lady Margaret Hall.”
“Yes, it incited her to worry Wilfred beyond sufferance in his holidays. I know if you or Lily had been always at me I should have kicked as hard as he does.”
“Lily herself can hardly cram him with his holiday task; but Fergus is a good little fellow.”
“You have kept him at it in a more judgmatical way. But won’t Armytage come in between the damsel and her college?”