He ran out of the yard.



CHAPTER VII.


GEORGE.

It appeared that Honoria and Taffy were to do lessons together, and
Mr. Raymond was to teach them. This had been the meaning of his
visit to Tredinnis House. They began the very next day in the
library at Tredinnis--a deserted room carpeted with badgers' skins,
and lined with undusted books--works on farriery, veterinary surgery,
and sporting subjects, long rows of the _Annual Register_, the
_Arminian Magazine_.

Taffy began by counting the badgers' skins. There were eighteen, and
the moths had got into them, so that the draught under the door
puffed little drifts of hair over the polished boards. Then he
settled down to the first Latin declension--_Musa_, a muse; vocative,
_Musa_, O muse!; genitive, Musae, of a muse. Honoria began upon the
ABC.

Mr. Raymond brought a pile of his own books, and worked at them,
scribbling notes in the margin or on long slips of paper, while the
children learnt. A servant came in with a message from Squire Moyle,
and he left them for a while.

"I call this nonsense," said Honoria. "How am I to get these silly