'Bearding the Northwold bench with a groundsel plume and a knitting-
needle:


'With a needle for a sword, and a thimble for a hat,
Wilt thou fight a traverse with the Castle cat?'


The proper champion in such a cause, since 'What cat's averse to
fish?''

'No, Louis dear,' said his aunt, struggling like a girl to keep her
countenance; 'this is no time for nonsense. One would think you had
no feeling for your father.'

'My dear aunt, I can't go to gaol like Prince Hal. I do assure you,
I did not assault the bench with the knitting-pins. What am I to
do?'

'Not set at nought your father's displeasure.'

'I can't help it,' said he, almost sadly, though half smiling. 'What
would become of me if I tried to support the full weight?
Interfering with institutions, ruining reputation, blasting bulwarks,
patronizing poachers, vituperating venerated--'

'Quite true,' cried Aunt Catherine, with spirit. 'You know you had
no business there, lecturing a set of men old enough to be your
grandfathers, and talking them all to death, no doubt.'