far less unkind, to an animal, as much attention as if he had been
high-bred and beautiful--which indeed he plainly supposed himself to be.

When, about an hour later, after their daily custom, this almost
inseparable trio fell into the breakfast-room as if the door had
suddenly given way before them, the boys were able to revenge themselves
for the rebuke this entrance provoked by the tidings they brought with
them.

"I say, old Mallet is going," cried Harold cheerfully, as he wriggled
himself on to his chair. "Denis, mind I want some of that egg-stuff."

"Take your arms off the table, Harold," said Lady Atherley. "Pray, how
do you know Mrs. Mallet is going?"

"She said so herself. She said," he went on, screwing up his nose and
speaking in a falsetto to express the intensity of his scorn--"she said
she was afraid of the ghost."

"I told you I did not allow that word to be mentioned."

"I did not; it was old Mallet."

"But, pray, what were you doing in old Mallet's domain?" asked Atherley.

"Cooking cabbage for Tip."

"Hum! What with ghosts by night and boys by day, our cook seems to have
a pleasant time of it; I shall be glad when Miss Jones's holidays are
over. Castleman, is it true that Mrs. Mallet talks of leaving us because