If the step-mother made any difference in her treatment of the two children, it was in favor of the gentle Mildred.  And though the Squire naturally felt more affection for his motherless daughter, yet he was proud of his step-son, gave him the advantages of the best schools, and afterwards sent him for a year to college.  But the lad’s spirits were too buoyant for the sober notions of the Faculty.  He was king in the gymnasium, and was minutely learned in the natural history and botany of the neighborhood; at least, he knew all the haunts of birds, rabbits, and squirrels, as well as the choicest orchards of fruit.

After repeated admonitions without effect, a letter was addressed to his stepfather by vote at a Faculty-meeting.  A damsel at service in the President’s house overheard the discussion, and found means to warn the young delinquent of his danger; for she, as well as most people who came within the sphere of his attraction, felt kindly toward him.

The stage-coach that conveyed the next morning’s mail to Innisfield carried Hugh Branning as a passenger.  Alighting at the post-office, he took out the letter superscribed in the well-known hand of the President, pocketed it, and returned by the next stage to college.  This prank only moved the Squire to mirth, when he heard of it.  He knew that Hugh was a lad of spirit,—­that in scholarship he was by no means a dunce; and as long as there was no positive tendency to vice, he thought but lightly of his boyish peccadilloes.  But it was impossible for such irregularities to continue, and after a while Mr. Kinloch yielded to his step-son’s request and took him home.

Next year it was thought best that the young man should go to sea, and a midshipman’s commission was procured for him.  Now, for the second time, after an absence of three years, Hugh was at home in all the dignity of navy blue, anchor buttons, glazed cap, and sword.

CHAPTER III.

“I have brought you the statement of the property, Mrs. Kinloch,” said Mr. Clamp.  “It is merely a legal form, embracing the items which you gave to me; it must be returned at the next Probate term.”

Mrs. Kinloch took the paper and glanced over it.

“This statement must be sworn to, Mrs. Kinloch.”

“By you?”

“We are joined in the administration, and both must swear to it.”

There was a pause.  Mrs. Kinloch, resting her hands on her knee, tossed the hem of her dress with her foot, as though meditating.

“I shall of course readily make oath to the schedule,” he continued,—­“at least, after you have done so; for I have no personal knowledge of the effects of the deceased.”

His manner was decorous, but he regarded her keenly.  She changed the subject.

“People seem to think I have a mint in the house; and such bills as come in!  Sawin, the cabinet-maker, has sent his to-day, as soon as my husband is fairly under ground:  forty dollars for a cherry coffin, which he made in one day.  Cleaver, the butcher, too, has sent a bill running back for five years or more.  Now I know that Mr. Kinloch never had an ounce of meat from him that he didn’t pay for.  If they all go on in this way, I sha’n’t have a cent left.  Everybody tries to cheat the widow”——­