‘That pen is not fit to write with.’

‘The pens are delusions,’ said Louis, trying them round, in an easy, idle way:  ’I never could mend a quill!  How is this steel one?  Refuses to recognise the purpose of his existence.  Aunt Catherine, do you still forbid steel pens in your school?  If so, it must be the solitary instance.  How geese must cackle blessings on the inventor!  He should have a testimonial—­a silver inkstand representing the goose that laid the golden eggs,—­and all writing-masters should subscribe.  Ha! where did this pen come from?  Mary, were you the bounteous mender!  A thousand thanks.’

If Louis fretted his father by loitering and nonsense, his father was no less trying by standing over him with advice and criticisms which would have driven most youths beyond patience, but which he bore with constant good-humour, till his father returned to the study, when he exclaimed, ’Now, Mary, if you like to finish the wreck, it will not interrupt me.  This is mere machine-work.’

‘Thank you,’ said Mary; ’I should like it better afterwards.  Do you think I might do one copy for you?  Or would it not suit Lord Ormersfield?’

Louis made polite demurs, but she overruled them and began.

He stretched himself, took up his Times, and skimmed the remaining incidents of the shipwreck, till he was shamed by seeing Mary half-way down the first page, when he resumed his pen, overtook her, and then relapsed into talk, till Mrs. Frost fairly left the room, to silence him.

As the two copies were completed, Lord Ormersfield returned; and Mary, with many apologies, presented her copy, and received most gracious thanks and compliments on her firm, clear writing, a vexation to her rather than otherwise, since ‘Fitzjocelyn’ was called to account for dubious scrawls, errors, and erasures.

He meekly took another sheet, consoling himself, however, by saying, ‘I warn you that pains will only make it Miss Fanny.’

‘What do you mean?’

As if glad to be instigated, he replied, ’Did you never hear of my signature being mistaken by an ingenious person, who addressed his answer to ’Miss Fanny Jocelyn?  Why, Fanny has been one of Jem’s regular names for me ever since!  I have the envelope somewhere as a curiosity.  I’ll show it to you, Mary.’

‘You seem to be proud of it!’ exclaimed his father, nearly out of patience.  ’Pray tell me whether you intend to copy this creditably or not.’

’I will endeavour, but the Fates must decide.  I can scrawl, or, with pains, I can imitate Miss Fanny; but the other alternative only comes in happy moments.’

‘Do you mean that you cannot write well if you choose?’

’It is like other arts—­an inspiration.  Dogberry was deep when he said it came by nature.’

’Then make no more attempts.  No.  That schoolgirl’s niggle is worse than the first.’

‘Fanny, as I told you,’ said Louis, looking vacantly up in resigned despair, yet not without the lurking expression of amusement, ’I will try again.’