guests and protégés, whom he was teaching the boys not to torment; and he had just set up a pair of beautiful goats to be pets of the village in general, and to walk at large as sacred animals. The evening went by cheerfully till after tea, Dorothea talking more than usual and dilating with Mr. Farebrother on the possible histories of creatures that converse compendiously with their antennae, and for aught we know may hold reformed parliaments; when suddenly some inarticulate little sounds were heard which called everybody’s attention.
“Henrietta Noble,” said Mrs. Farebrother, seeing her small sister moving about the furniture-legs distressfully, “what is the matter?”
“I have lost my tortoiseshell lozenge-box. I fear the kitten has rolled it away,” said the tiny old lady, involuntarily continuing her beaver-like notes.
“Is it a great treasure, aunt?” said Mr. Farebrother, putting up his glasses and looking at the carpet.
“ Mr. Ladislaw gave it me,” said Miss Noble. “A German box—very pretty, but if it falls it always spins away as far as it can.”
“Oh, if it is Ladislaw’s present,” said Mr. Farebrother, in a deep tone of comprehension, getting up and hunting. The box was found at last under a chiffonier, and Miss Noble grasped it with delight, saying, “it was under a fender the last time.”
“That is an affair of the heart with my aunt,” said Mr. Farebrother, smiling at Dorothea, as he reseated himself.
“If Henrietta Noble forms an attachment to anyone, Mrs. Casaubon,” said his mother, emphatically—“she is like a dog—she would take their shoes for a pillow and sleep the better.”
“ Mr. Ladislaw’s shoes, I would,” said Henrietta Noble.