A Little Rebel

le and fortress, as well for his defence aga

e says she has come for ever. That she will not go away.

ly in turn grows petrified for

ns!" says the professor bitterly, with

ys Hardinge, a little frivolously under the circu

ngry, and I haven't a thing in the house! Fo

ts Hardinge, in anythi

. "You-you wouldn't ask her for

th him afterwards. Beauty in distress, you know, appeals to all hearts. Here we are!" holding out at arm's length a pasty. "A 'weal and ammer!' Take it! The guilt be on my head! Bread-butter-pickled onions!

reat wrath. "And let me tell you, Hardinge, that there are occasions w

morse. It is true, at least of that young man, that he covers his face with his hand

r doesn't often think of himself)-but for her. And where is she to sleep? To turn her out now would be impossible! After all, it was a puerile trifling with the Inevitable, to shirk asking Mrs. Mulcahy for something to eat fo

or. Paralyzed, he gazes in the direction of the sound. It can't be Hardinge, he would never knock like that! The knock i

, that virtuous Irishwoman, clad in righteous indigna

ith great dignity and more temper, "

s normal. She jumps up, and runs to Mrs. Mulcahy with a beaming face. She has had som

you mustn't scold him-he didn't mean anything. I suppose you have heard how unhappy I was with Aunt Jane?-he's told you, I daresay,"-with a little flinging of her hand towards the trembling professor-"because I know"-prettily-"he is v

ty as if the whole ten commandments have been broken by him at o

ne over to where Mrs. Mulcahy is standing, and is talking still to that good Irishwoman. It

know how cruel Aunt Jane was to me, Mrs. Mulcahy, you don't indeed! She-she said such unkind things about-about--" Perpetua b

hose forlorn sobs, lifts his eyes, and-behold! he sees Perpetua

now, alanna! Take courage now! Sure 'tis to the right shop ye've come, anyway, for 'tis daughthers I have meself, me dear-fine, sthrappin' girls as could put you in their pockits. Ye poor little crather! Oh! Murther! Who could harm the li

of him. What a woman! He had never thought so much moral support could be got out of a landlady-but Mrs. Mulcahy has certainly tided him safely over one of his

t an hour must be wasted. By the morning light something must be pu

ssion, the persecuted professor descend

ands the latter, sp

ce is so gloomy, that Hardinge may be forgiven

staring at the professor's nose, and t

he was visible of course. Sh

easily have made it you

nds the professor angrily. "For Heaven's sake! attend to me,

ude, but Hardinge t

one would expect," says the profess

. She? Mis

s. Mulcahy came into the room, and took Miss Wynter into her charge in the-er-t

says Hardinge. "Sit down, old

means to stay. The poor child doesn't understand. She thinks I'm older than Methusaleh, and that

dinge, in a hurry. "What on ear

o settle me! To-to brush my hair! To-make my tea. She says I'm her guardian, and insis

dinge, who I regret to sa

of Hardinge. He looks at him. But the professor's new humor is short-lived. He sinks upon a chair in a tired sor

ain, back to the old aunt?" say

t the house is locked up, and-and besides, Hard

cigar. "Light your pipe," says he, "and we'll think it over." T

a beginning to the "thinking it over." He pushes his glasses up to his fore

s Hardinge-for, indeed, the professor without

ever mind that. Come back to the question.

would part with a good deal of honest coin of the re

himself. "By Jove! what a thing to happen to you, Curzon

s the professor faintly. "It

ellow who would answer that, straight off. I say, Curzon, what

sor gets u

-that has now something of haste in it. "It-I-you know what

ble; and it now strikes him as strange that this silent, awkward, ill-dressed, clever man should be the one to teach him how to behave himself. Who is Curzon? Given a better tailor, and a worse brain, he might be a reasonable-looking fell

e aunts" says the profes

gorously. "I've an aunt-but 'that's another stor

r," says the pr

rri

wid

s of Finchley," says Hardinge to himself. "Po

to your sister the

says the professor, with hesitation. "I confess

-" begins Hardinge-throwing out a suggestion as it wer

Countess of Baring

d, and his second that he himself has accomplished that deed. He leans

!-your siste