'Oh! it would make your head bad again,' said Phyllis; 'but I wish you would tell me what he means. When I cry I only think about what makes me unhappy.'

'Try never to cry,' said Claude; 'I a.s.sure you it is not pleasant to hear you, even when I have no headache. If you wish to do anything right, you must learn self-control, and it will be a good beginning to check yourself when you are going to cry. Do not look melancholy now. Here comes the tea. Let me see how you will perform as tea- maker.'

'I wish the evening would not go away so fast!'

'And what are we to do after tea? You are queen of the evening.'

'If you would but tell me a story, Claude.'

They lingered long over the tea-table, talking and laughing, and when they had finished, Phyllis discovered with surprise that it was nearly bedtime. The promised story was not omitted, however, and Phyllis, sitting on a little footstool at her brother's feet, looked up eagerly for it.

'Well, Phyl, I will tell you a true history that I heard from an officer who had served in the Peninsular War--the war in Spain, you know.'

'Yes, with the French, who killed their king. Lily told me.'

'And the Portuguese were helping us. Just after we had taken the town of Ciudad Rodrigo, some of the Portuguese soldiers went to find lodgings for themselves, and, entering a magazine of gunpowder, made a fire on the floor to dress their food. A most dangerous thing--do you know why?'

'The book would be burnt,' said Phyllis.

'What book, you wise child?'

'The Magazine; I thought a magazine was one of the paper books that Maurice is always reading.'

'Oh!' said Claude, laughing, 'a magazine is a store, and as many different things are stored in those books, they are called magazines. A powder magazine is a store of barrels of gunpowder.

Now do you see why it was dangerous to light a fire?'

'It blows up,' said Phyllis; 'that was the reason why Robinson Crusoe was afraid of the lightning.'

'Right, Phyl, and therefore a candle is never allowed to be carried into a powder magazine, and even nailed shoes are never worn there, lest they should strike fire. One spark, lighting on a grain of gunpowder, scattered on the floor, might communicate with the rest, make it all explode, and spread destruction everywhere. Think in what fearful peril these reckless men had placed, not only themselves, but the whole town, and the army. An English officer chanced to discover them, and what do you think he did?'

'Told all the people to run away.'

'How could he have told every one, soldiers, inhabitants, and all?

where could they have gone? No, he raised no alarm, but he ordered the Portuguese out of the building, and with the help of an English sergeant, he carried out, piece by piece, all the wood which they had set on fire. Now, imagine what that must have been. An explosion might happen at any moment, yet they had to walk steadily, slowly, and with the utmost caution, in and out of this place several times, lest one spark might fly back.'

'Then they were saved?' cried Phyllis, breathlessly; 'and what became of them afterwards?'

'They were both killed in battle, the officer, I believe, in Badajoz, and the sergeant sometime afterwards.'

Phyllis gave a deep sigh, and sat silent for some minutes. Next, Claude began a droll Irish fairy-tale, which he told with spirit and humour, such as some people would have scorned to exert for the amus.e.m.e.nt of a mere child. Phyllis laughed, and was so happy, that when suddenly they heard the sound of wheels, she started up, wondering what brought the others home so soon, and was still more surprised when Claude told her it was past ten.

'Oh dear! what will papa and Emily say to me for being up still? But I will stay now, it would not be fair to pretend to be gone to bed.'

'Well said, honest Phyl; now for the news from the castle.'

'Why, Claude,' said his eldest brother, entering, 'you are alive again.'

'I doubt whether your evening could have been pleasanter than ours,'

said Claude.

'Phyl,' cried Ada, 'do you know, Mary Carrington's governess thought I was Florence's sister.'

'You look so bright, Claude,' said Jane, 'I think you must have taken Cinderella's friend with the pumpkin to enliven you.'

'My fairy was certainly sister to a Brownie,' said Claude, stroking Phyllis's hair.

'Claude,' again began Ada, 'Miss Car--'

'I wish Cinderella's fairy may be forthcoming the day of the ball,'

said Lily, disconsolately.

'And William is going after all,' said Emily.

'Indeed! has the great Captain relented?'

'Yes. Is it not good of him? Aunt Rotherwood is so much pleased that he consents to go entirely to oblige her.'

'Sensible of his condescension,' said Claude. 'By the bye, what makes the Baron look so mischievous?'

'Mischievous!' said Emily, looking round with a start, 'he is looking very comical, and so he has been all the evening.'

'What? You thought mischievous was meant in Hannah's sense, when she complains of Master Reginald being very mischie-vi-ous.'

Ada now succeeded in saying, 'The Carringtons' governess called me Lady Ada.'

'How could she bring herself to utter so horrid a sound?' said Claude.

'Ada is more c.o.c.k-a-hoop than ever now,' said Reginald; 'she does not think Miss Weston good enough to speak to.'

'But, Claude, she really did, she thought I was Florence's sister, and she said I was just like her.'

'I wish you would hold your tongue, or go to bed,' said William, 'I have heard nothing but this nonsense all the way home.'

While William was sending off Ada to bed, and Phyllis was departing with her, Lily told Claude that the Captain had been most agreeable.

'I feared,' said she, 'that he would be too grand for this party, but he was particularly entertaining; Rotherwood was quite eclipsed.'

'Rotherwood wants Claude to set him off,' said Mr. Mohun. 'Now, young ladies, reserve the rest of your adventures for the morning.'

Adeline had full satisfaction in recounting the governess's mistake to the maids, and in hearing from Esther that it was no wonder, 'for that she looked more like a born lady than Lady Florence herself!'

Lilias's fit of petulance about the ball had returned more strongly than ever; she partly excused herself to her own mind, by fancying she disliked the thought of the lonely evening she was to spend more than that of losing the pleasure of the ball. Mr. Mohun would be absent, conducting Maurice to a new school, and Claude and Reginald would also be gone.

Her temper was affected in various ways; she wondered that William and Emily could like to go--she had thought that Miss Weston was wiser. Her daily occupations were irksome--she was cross to Phyllis.

It made her very angry to be accused by the young brothers of making a fuss, and Claude's silence was equally offensive. It was upon principle that he said nothing. He knew it was nothing but a transient attack of silliness, of which she was herself ashamed; but he was sorry to leave her in that condition, and feared Lady Rotherwood's coming into the neighbourhood was doing her harm, as certainly as it was spoiling Ada. The ball day arrived, and it was marked by a great burst of fretfulness on the part of poor Lilias, occasioned by so small a matter as the being asked by Emily to write a letter to Eleanor. Emily was dressing to go to dine at Devereux Castle when she made the request.

'What have I to say? I never could write a letter in my life, at least not to the Duenna--there is no news.'

'About the boys going to school,' Emily suggested.