第 4 页

"Well, aunt, I was going to say footman, and then I thought of Thomas

a Becket; and there was Thomas the Rhymer. I have heard of him, but

I never read any of his rhymes. I wonder why they did not call them

poems. But I expect even Thomas a Becket was called Tom in his own

family."

Miss Scudamore looked sharply at Tom, but he had a perfect command of

his face, and could talk the greatest nonsense with the most serious

face. He went on unmoved with her scrutiny.

"I have often wondered why I was not christened Tom, It would have

been much more sensible. For instance, Rhoda is christened Rhoda and

not Rhododendron."

"Rhododendron?" Miss Scudamore said, mystified.

"Yes, aunt, it is an American plant, I believe. We had one in the

green-house at home; it was sent poor papa by some friend who went out

there, I don't see anything else Rhoda could come from."

"You are speaking very ignorantly, nephew," Miss Scudamore said

severely. "I don't know anything about the plant you speak of, but the

name of Rhoda existed before America was ever heard of. It is a very

old name."

"I expect," Peter said, "it must have meant originally a woman of

Rhodes. You see Crusaders and Templars were always having to do with

Rhodes, and they no doubt brought the name home, and so it got settled

here."

"The name is mentioned in Scripture," Miss Scudamore said severely.

"Yes, aunt, and that makes it still more likely that it meant a woman

of Rhodes; you see Rhodes was a great place then."

Miss Scudamore was silent for some time. Then she went back to the

subject with which the conversation had commenced. "What is the

objection you spoke of to the room?"

"Oh! it is the bars to the window, aunt."

"I have just had them put up," Miss Scudamore said calmly.

"Just put up, aunt!" Tom repeated in surprise, "what for?"

"To prevent you getting out at night."

The boys could not help laughing this time, and then Peter said, "But

why should we want to get out at night, aunt?"

"Why should boys always want to do the things they ought not?" Miss

Scudamore said. "I've heard of boys being let down by ropes to go and

buy things. I dare say you have both done it yourselves."

"Well, aunt," Tom said, "perhaps we have; but then, you see, that was

at school."

"I do not see any difference, nephew. If you will get out at one

window, you will get out at another. There is mischief to be done in

the country as well as in towns; and so long as there is mischief to

do, so long will boys go out of their way to do it. And now I will

tell you the rules of this house, to which you will be expected to

adhere. It is well to understand things at once, as it prevents

mistakes. We breakfast at eight, dine at two, have tea at half-past

six, and you will go to bed at half-past eight. These hours will be

strictly observed. I shall expect your hands and faces to be washed,

and your hairs brushed previous to each meal. When you come indoors

you will always take off your boots and put on your shoes in the

little room behind this. And now, if you have done dinner I think

that you had better go and lie down on your bed, and get two or three

hours' sleep. Take your boots off before you get into the bed."

"She means well, Peter," the elder brother said, as they went

upstairs, "but I am afraid she will fidget our lives out."

For two or three days the boys wandered about enjoying the beautiful

walks, and surprising and pleasing their aunt by the punctuality

with which they were in to their meals. Then she told them that she

had arranged for them to go to a tutor, who lived at Warley, a large

village a mile distant, and who had some eight or ten pupils. The very

first day's experience at the school disgusted them. The boys were

of an entirely different class to those with whom they had hitherto

associated, and the master was violent and passionate.

"How do you like Mr. Jones, nephews?" Miss Scudamore asked upon their

return after their first day at school.

"We do not like him at all, aunt. In the first place, he is a good

deal too handy with that cane of his."

"'He who spares the rod--'"

"Yes, we know that, aunt, 'spoils the child,'" broke in Tom, "but we

would not mind so much if the fellow were a gentleman."

"I don't know what you may call a gentleman," Miss Scudamore said

severely. "He stands very high here a schoolmaster, while he visits

the vicar, and is well looked up to everywhere."

"He's not a gentleman for all that," Tom muttered; "he wouldn't be if

he visited the Queen. One does not mind being trashed by a gentleman;

one is used to that at Eton; but to be knocked about by a fellow like

that! Well, we shall see."

For a week the boys put up with the cruelty of their tutor, who at

once took an immense dislike to them on finding that they did not,

like the other boys, cringe before him, and that no trashing could

extract a cry from them.

It must not be supposed that they did not meditate vengeance, but they

could hit upon no plan which could be carried out without causing

suspicion that it was the act of one of the boys; and in that case

they knew that he would question them all round, and they would not

tell a lie to screen themselves.

Twice they appealed to their aunt, but she would not listen to them,

saying that the other boys did not complain, and that if their master

was more severe with them than with others, it could only be because

they behaved worse. It was too evident that they were boys of very

violent dispositions, and although she was sorry that their master

found it necessary to punish them, it was clearly her duty not to

interfere.

The remark about violence arose from Miss Scudamore having read in the

little paper which was published once a week at Marlborough an account

of the incident of the stopping of the coach, about which the boys

had agreed to say nothing to her. The paper had described the conduct

of her nephews in the highest terms, but Miss Scudamore was terribly

shocked. "The idea", she said, "that she should have to associate with

boys who had take a fellow-creature's life was terrible to her, and

their conduct in resisting, when grown-up men had given up the idea

as hopeless, showed a violent spirit, which, in boys so young, was

shocking."

A few days after this, as the boys were coming from school, they

passed the carrier's cart, coming in from Marlborough.

"Be you the young gentlemen at Miss Scudamore's?" the man asked.

"Because, if you be, I have got a parcel for you."

Tom answered him that they were, and he then handed them over a heavy

square parcel. Opening it after the cart had gone on, the boys, to

their great delight, found that it consisted of two cases, each

containing a brace of very handsome pistols.

"This is luck, Peter," Tom said. "If the parcel had been sent to the

house, aunt would never have let us have them; now we can take them in

quietly, get some powder and balls, and practice shooting every day in

some quiet place. That will be capital. Do you know I have thought of

a plan which will enrage old Jones horribly, and he will never suspect

us?"

"No; have you, Tom? What is that?"

"Look here, Peter. I can carry you easily standing on my shoulders. If

you get a very long cloak, so as to fall well down on me, no one would

suspect in the dark that there were two of us; we should look like

one tremendously tall man. Well, you know, he goes every evening to

Dunstable's to sing with Miss Dunstable. They say he's making love to

her. We can waylay him in the narrow lane, and make him give up that

new watch he has just bought, that he's so proud of. I heard him say

he had given thirty guineas for it. Of course, we don't want to keep

it, but we would smash it up between a couple of big stones, and send

him all the pieces."

"Capital, Tom; but where should we get the cloak?"

"There is that long wadded silk cloak of aunt's that she uses when she

goes out driving. It always hangs up in the closet in the hall."

"But how are we to get in again, Tom? I expect that he does not come

back till half-past nine or ten. We can slip out easily enough after

we are supposed to have gone to bed; but how are we to get back?"

"The only plan, Peter, is to get in through Rhoda's window. She is

very angry at that brute Jones treating us so badly, and if I take her

into the secret I feel sure she will agree."

Rhoda was appealed to, and although at first she said it was quite,

quite impossible, she finally agreed, although with much fear and

trembling, to assist them. First, the boys were to buy some rope and

make a rope ladder, which Rhoda was to take up to her room; she was to

open the window wide when she went to bed, but to pull the blind down

as usual, so that if her aunt came in she would not notice it. Then,

when she heard her aunt come tip to bed at half-past nine, she was to

get up very quietly, drop the rope ladder out, fastening it as they

instructed her, and then get into bed again, and go to sleep if she

could, as the boys would not try to come in until after Miss Scudamore

was asleep.

Two nights after this the schoolmaster was returning from his usual

visit to Mr. Dunstable, when, to his horror, he saw a gigantic figure

advance from under a tree which overshadowed the lawn, and heard a

deep voice say, "Your money or your life!"

Like all bullies, the schoolmaster was a coward, and no sooner did he

see this terrible figure, and his ears caught the ominous click of

a pistol which accompanied the words, than his teeth chattered, his

whole figure trembled with fear, and he fell on his knees, crying,

"Spare my life!--take all that I have, but spare my life!"

"You miserable coward!" the giant said, "I do not want to take your

wretched life. What money have you?"

"I have only two shillings," he exclaimed; "I swear to you that I have

only two shillings."

"What is the use of two shillings to me?--give them to the first

beggar you see."

"Yes, sir," the schoolmaster said; "I swear to you that I will."

"Give me your watch."

The schoolmaster took out his watch, and, getting upon his feet,

handed it to the giant.

"There now, you can go; but see," he added, as the schoolmaster turned

with great alacrity to leave--"look here."

"Yes, sir."

"Look here, and mark my words well. Don't you go to that house where

you have been to-night, or it will be the worse for you. You are a

wretch, and I won't see that poor little girl marry you and be made

miserable. Swear to me you will give her up."

The schoolmaster hesitated, but there was again the ominous click of

the pistol.

"Yes, yes, I swear it," he said hastily. "I will give her up

altogether."

"You had better keep your oath," the giant said, "for if you break it,

if I hear you go there any more--I shall be sure to hear of it--I will

put an ounce of lead in you, if I have to do it in the middle of your

school. Do you hear me? Now you may go."

Only too glad to escape, the schoolmaster walked quickly off, and in a

moment his steps could be heard as he ran at the top of his speed down

the lane.

In a moment the giant appeared to break in two, and two small figures

stood where the large one had been.

"Capital, Peter. Now, I'll take the cloak, and you keep the pistol,

and now for a run home--not that I'm afraid of that coward getting

up a pursuit. He'll be only too glad to get his head under the

bedclothes."

Rhoda had carried out her brother's instructions with great exactness,

and was in a great fright when her aunt came in to see her in bed,

lest she should notice that the window was open. However, the night

was a quiet one, and the curtains fell partly across the blind, so

that Miss Scudamore suspected nothing, but Rhoda felt great relief

when she said good-night, took the candle, and left the room. She had

had hard work to keep herself awake until she heard her aunt come up

to bed; and then, finding that she did not again come into the room,

she got up, fastened one end of the rope ladder to a thick stick long

enough to cross two of the mullions, let the other end down very

quietly, and then slipped into bed again. She did not awake until

Hester knocked at her door and told her it was time to get up. She

awoke with a great start, and in a, fright at once ran to the window.

Everything looked as usual. The rope ladder was gone, the window was

closed, and Rhoda knew that her brothers must have come in safely.

Great was the excitement in Warley next day, when it became known that

the schoolmaster had been robbed of his watch by a giant fully eight

feet high. This height of the robber was, indeed, received with much

doubt, as people thought that he might have been a tall man, but

that the eight feet must have been exaggerated by the fear of the

schoolmaster.

Two or three days afterwards the surprise rose even higher, when a

party of friends who had assembled at Mr. Jones' to condole with him

upon his misfortune, were startled by the smashing of one of the

windows by a small packet, which fell upon the floor in their midst.

There was a rush to the door, but the night was a dark one, and no one

was to be seen; then they returned to the sitting-room, and the little

packet was opened, and found to contain some watchworks bent and

broken, some pulverized glass, and a battered piece of metal, which,

after some trouble, the schoolmaster recognized as the case of his