vain his mother, harassed with all the mysteries of packing, indulged
in a thousand irritable expressions, which at any other time might
have produced a broil or even a fray; Cadurcis did nothing but laugh.
There was at the bottom of this boy's heart, with all his habitual
gravity and reserve, a fund of humour which would occasionally break
out, and which nothing could withstand. When he was alone with
Venetia, he would imitate the old maids of Morpeth, and all the
ceremonies of a provincial tea party, with so much life and genuine
fun, that Venetia was often obliged to stop in their rambles to
indulge her overwhelming mirth. When they were alone, and he was
gloomy, she was often accustomed to say, 'Now, dear Plantagenet, tell
me how the old ladies at Morpeth drink tea.'

This morning at the abbey, Cadurcis was irresistible, and the more
excited his mother became with the difficulties which beset her, the
more gay and fluent were his quips and cranks. Puffing, panting,
and perspiring, now directing her waiting-woman, now scolding her
man-servant, and now ineffectually attempting to box her son's ears,
Mrs. Cadurcis indeed offered a most ridiculous spectacle.

'John!' screamed Mrs. Cadurcis, in a voice of bewildered passion, and
stamping with rage, 'is that the place for my cap-box? You do it on
purpose, that you do!'

'John,' mimicked Lord Cadurcis, 'how dare you do it on purpose?'

'Take that, you brat,' shrieked the mother, and she struck her own
hand against the doorway. 'Oh! I'll give it you, I'll give it you,'
she bellowed under the united influence of rage and pain, and she
pursued her agile child, who dodged her on the other side of the