The war had drawn every one nearer together, and Mrs. Drury was really anxious about Gilbert, and grateful for the intelligence.  Nor did Lucy meet with anything unpleasant.  Mrs. Cavendish Dusautoy, in waist-deep flounces, a Paris bonnet, and her husband’s dignity, impressed her cousins, and whatever use they might make of their tongues, it was not till after she was gone.

As the carriage stopped at the door, Sophy came out with such a perturbed an expression, as seemed to prelude fatal tidings; and Lucy was pausing to listen, when she was hastily summoned by her husband.

‘Oh! mamma, he has struck Maurice such a blow!’ cried Sophy.

‘Algernon? where’s Maurice? is he hurt?’

‘He is in the library with papa.’

She was there in a moment.  Maurice sat on his father’s knee, listening to Pope’s Homer, leaning against him, with eye, cheek, and nose exceedingly swelled and reddened; but these were symptoms of which she had seen enough in past days not to be greatly terrified, even while she exclaimed aghast.

‘Aye!’ said Mr. Kendal, sternly.  ’What do you think of young Dusautoy’s handiwork?’

‘What could you have done to him, Maurice?’

‘I painted his image.’

‘The children got into the painting-room,’ said Mr. Kendal, ’and did some mischief; Maurice ought to have known better, but that was no excuse for his violence.  I do not know what would have been the consequence, if poor little Albinia’s screams had not alarmed me.  I found Algernon striking him with his doubled fist.’

‘But I gave him a dig in the nose,’ cried Maurice, in exultation; ’I pulled ever so much hair out of his whiskers.  I had it just now.’

‘This sounds very sad,’ said Albinia, interrupting the search for the trophy.  ’What were you doing in the painting-room?  You know you had no business there.’

’Why, mamma, little Awk wanted me to look at the pictures that Lucy shows her.  And then, don’t you know his image? the little white bare boy pulling the thorn out of his foot.  Awkey said he was naughty not to have his clothes on, and so I thought it would be such fun to make a militiaman of him, and so the paints were all about, and so I gave him a red coat and black trousers.’

‘Oh, Maurice, Maurice, how could you?’

’I couldn’t help it, mamma!  I did so want to see what Algernon would do!’

‘Well.’

’So he came up and caught us.  And wasn’t he in a jolly good rage? that’s all.  He stamped, and called me names, and got hold of me to shake me, but I know I kicked him well, and I had quite a handful out of his whisker; but you see poor little Awkey is only a girl, and couldn’t help squalling, so papa came up.’

‘And in time!’ said Mr. Kendal; ’he reeled against me, almost stunned, and was hardly himself for some moments.  His nose bled violently.  That fellow’s fist might knock down an ox.’