to the Scamp's calves, with a vigorous tweak that made Sam jump upon his seat, kick out his legs, and give vent to a sharp yell of surprise and pain, managing dexterously to hold on to his saucer, meanwhile, in spite of his eccentric bodily contortions.

"Oh, I say, Mrs. Hughes, that is too bad; he did give me such a twinge! Won't I pitch into him, presently, just about! -whoever it is under there."

Major Camp, you forget yourself!" interrupted Mrs. Hughes, smiling, but still anxious to bring the sport to a successful issue. "Her Majesty the Queen of Sheba is not used to be addressed as 'Mrs. Hughes,' and moreover, Sir, you were warned of the consequences of the slightest inattention to any portion of this formal ceremony.

"And now, Major," concluded Mrs. Hughes, when the operation was brought to a highly satisfactory termination, "perhaps you might like to behold your countenance in a mirror do you consider that your locks are in that order which you would desire, when dining in state with royalty?"

Sam, still unsuspecting the horrible reality, was thrown still more off his guard by this remark, and hastily putting a hand to each side of his head, tried to smoothen and flatten down the untidy masses of hair, which he felt conscious were sure to be flying about in their usual profusion, all round his eyes and over his forehead.

"Slave of the silvered glass, advance!" cried Mrs. Hughes, clapping her hands, as before.

I shall never forget the look of utter, blank astonishment and dismay, that broke all over the Scamp's face, as Mat came eagerly forward, and presented the looking-glass full in front of his eyes.

He turned and twisted the glass from side to side, and ogled and peered, as though he fully believed that there must be some extraordinary peculiarity or flaw in the mirror, that could reflect to him such a grimy, smutty, besmeared visage, as that which stared stolidly back at him from out of the little polished oval frame. All the boys came bursting forth from their hiding

places, as soon as they heard his first startled exclamation, and crowded round, laughing and jeering, and looking every whit like a lot of North American Indians, tattooed and decorated for a village war dance. It was too much for the Scamp.

With a sudden burst like the explosion of damp gunpowder, he threw down the mirror upon the table, and tumbling sideways off his chair, rolled upon the ground in an agony of convulsive mirth, until he finally disappeared under the table, to engage in friendly combat with willing Harry Morland.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE STEED AND HIS RIDER.

Two days passed, and the third broke upon a scene of perfect loveliness, for far and wide the earth was covered with a vast, boundless cloak of glistening, spotless snow, whilst the trees all around the house looked like so many giants, bending under the weight of the heavy loads they bore upon their many branching arms.

"Snow! SNOW! SNOW!" were the three words that startled the quiet sleepers from their heavy slumbers; and those whose dreams were not disturbed by the first sound of the Scamp's voice, must have been firmly slumbering indeed, if they were not aroused by the time he gave vent to his third exclamation, for cach was uttered with such increasing emphasis, that the last ended in a regular shout of mingled pleasure and surprise.

“Hur—r—r—r-ra-ah!" cried Willie Knowles, responsively, leaping out of bed, wide awake in no time. Rushing full tilt to the window, he nearly pushed the Scamp through the glass, in his eagerness to scratch off some of the night's frozen moisture, that he might see out the better.

"You great, clumsy, gawky lank!" exclaimed the Scamp, with affected indignation, using his favourite epithet, as usual when he intended to be particularly crushing towards Willie Knowles. "You might have pushed me through that window

then that would have smashed the glass then that would have cut my fingers then I couldn't have used my hand then I couldn't make any snow men or houses nor make snow-balls to shy at you--then there wouldn't have been any use in the snow coming at all!" and Sam-disdainful, as ever, of any pause, or of the ordinary rules of punctuation-wound up his voluble remarks with a sudden gasp for breath wherewith to refill his exhausted lungs.

"There would be other people in the world, who could enjoy the snow, I suppose, even if you were laid up," returned Willie, laughing. Meanwhile other excited youngsters had come crowding up to the window, shivering in their night-shirts, but never heeding present discomforts, in the pleasant anticipation of the fun in store for them after breakfast.

Harry Morland had come dancing up, echoing his hero, Willie Knowles' exclamations in as lively tones, though with a slightly different accent, as he shouted, "Hooray! hooray!" and capered round Mat with a series of bounds and threatening embraces, that made the less impulsive object of his notice retreat out of the way, in evident disinclination for his advances. As soon as ever breakfast was over, away rushed all the boys to put on their boots and hurry out into the snow. This was a

rather longer operation than usual, for Mrs. Hughes had directed Eliza to bring in a great bowl of mutton dripping, and had recommended all of us to rub it over our boots, to prevent the damp from penetrating, a proceeding which many of the boys discovered to be highly interesting and entertaining.

For reasons best known to my own heart, I had slipped back to the sitting-room, instead of running out with the rest, and had been there, silent and alone, only a few minutes, when I heard the sound of light footsteps passing the doorway.

Then they paused, as if in uncertainty about something, stood motionless a moment, and then, turning sharp round, pattered back to the doorway, and stopped short upon the threshold. Mat's hat and head, peering doubtfully round the

door, met my eyes as I raised them from the book which I was professing to spell over.

"Why ever don't you come out to play?" he asked, in much surprise. "They are having such fun round in the garden, building a real snow-house, roof and all! I have been hunting everywhere for you. I couldn't think what on earth had become of you, or wherever you had got to! Come along."

"I don't want to," I answered, with rather a dejected air. "Don't want to?" echoed Mat, in astonishment. "Don't want to? Why ever not? I always thought you were so fond of the snow."

"So I am. But oh, Mat! how can I, with her life 'hanging by a thread' it must break soon-even if it hasn't done so already." I made my remark so earnestly, though very quietly, that I think Mat's eyes began to fill, and I know mine did.

Poor little fellow! He, too, was as fond of Miss Royce as ever I could possibly be, and perhaps I had wounded his feelings, by unintentionally implying that he was less keenly alive to our mutual sorrow than was I. "Oh dear, dear! it's just dreadful!" he said, presently, with a deep-drawn sigh.

Then, after a few moments' contemplation of the big, crackling log, which the servant had thrown on the fire ten minutes ago, he added, gently, "But I don't think she would wish us to stay here, moping, and making ourselves miserable, would she? Because we couldn't do her any good by it, and we might do ourselves harm. We needn't be thoughtless and indifferent, even if we do try to distract our thoughts or divert our minds a little, by joining in the games. At any rate, I know she would not consider us hard-hearted, for playing about and trying to enjoy ourselves, as far as we can."

"Very well!" I answered, only half convinced; "I'll come, if you like." The boys had got on finely with the snow-house, by the time we got outside; for the snow-though only one night's fall-was deep, and in splendid binding condition.

Already the walls were all up, and Will Knowles was direct