CHAPTER I

"THE fact of the case is, I'm about tired of everything."

The author of this comprehensive statement was a small boy of five summers, who was curled up on the rug by the nursery fire, looking pretty comfortable notwithstanding his lofty contempt of his surroundings. His companion was a brother two years his senior, who was nursing his knees in an oldfashioned attitude, his small and rather wizened face turned intently towards the ruddy blaze.

"Yes, Curly, that's exactly how I feel sometimes. I'm about tired of everything. I suppose we're what the girls call blasé. I think that means pretty

much what we feel now."

"I don't know about that-I don't expect we feel much like the girls," answered the younger brother, with masculine contempt for the "inferior sex." "I'd rather be us than the girls any day; but I do want something fresh to do."

"If we were boys in books, we would get into

mischief, and make a jolly big row about something; but I don't believe any one here would care if we did. And there doesn't seem anything to do."

"I don't much believe in book-boys," remarked Curly, whose forte appeared to be a general contempt for most things. "Of course anyone could make anybody do anything in a book; but it doesn't prove that one could do it oneself."

"No, that's just it-I feel like that myself, sometimes. Now if we were book-boys we should find heaps of things to do, and we should be awfully pleased we weren't going to have any more governess till after the summer was over. I did think it was jolly when I first heard about it; but I declare I should sometimes like to have some lessons again, just for a change."

"Oh, well, I don't think I care about lessons so much; but I want something to happen different. I'm sick of all the days being so alike. I wish we lived in the country. We could do such a lot of things there."

"Ah, yes, wouldn't that be jolly! But we never do go till August, and then it's generally to a stupid, fashionable place. It's fun digging in the sand; but I should like to go where the fields are all green, and the birds build nests, and people have hay and corn to get in, and all that sort of thing. When I'm big, I think I'll be a farmer. I'm sure I won't

be a soldier, or a barrister, or a clergyman, or any of the stupid things the men are who come here to talk nonsense to the girls and make themselves ridiculous."

Curly looked into the fire and gravely nodded his head.

"I'll come with you, and we'll have a farm together; but, Bunny, do you think papa will let us? Wasn't it because Tor went to Australia to be a farmer that they are all so angry with him?”

Bunny's shrewd little brown face was screwed up into an expression of profound wisdom.

"I don't quite know why it is that they are all so cross to Tor. I think it's because he failed and had to come home again. If he had got rich and come home with a big fortune, I don't expect they'd have minded half as much."

"I like Tor the best of them all," remarked Curly, with an air of decision. "I wonder if he seems nicer because we can't remember him before he went away."

"I can just a very little," said Bunny. "At least I can remember a little bit about the fuss there was, and how angry everybody was; but I was too little to understand what it was all about, and you weren't much more than a baby."

"Well, I don't believe Tor ever did anything very naughty. I think it's a great shame how they

mischief, and make a jolly big row about something; but I don't believe any one here would care if we did. And there doesn't seem anything to do."

"I don't much believe in book-boys," remarked Curly, whose forte appeared to be a general contempt for most things. "Of course anyone could make anybody do anything in a book; but it doesn't prove that one could do it oneself."

"No, that's just it-I feel like that myself, sometimes. Now if we were book-boys we should find heaps of things to do, and we should be awfully pleased we weren't going to have any more governess till after the summer was over. I did think it was jolly when I first heard about it; but I declare I should sometimes like to have some lessons again, just for a change."

"Oh, well, I don't think I care about lessons so much; but I want something to happen different. I'm sick of all the days being so alike. I wish we lived in the country. We could do such a lot of things there."

"Ah, yes, wouldn't that be jolly! But we never do go till August, and then it's generally to a stupid, fashionable place. It's fun digging in the sand; but I should like to go where the fields are all green, and the birds build nests, and people have hay and corn to get in, and all that sort of thing. When I'm big, I think I'll be a farmer. I'm sure I won't

be a soldier, or a barrister, or a clergyman, or any of the stupid things the men are who come here to talk nonsense to the girls and make themselves ridiculous."

Curly looked into the fire and gravely nodded his head.

"I'll come with you, and we'll have a farm together; but, Bunny, do you think papa will let us? Wasn't it because Tor went to Australia to be a farmer that they are all so angry with him?"

Bunny's shrewd little brown face was screwed up into an expression of profound wisdom.

"I don't quite know why it is that they are all so cross to Tor. I think it's because he failed and had to come home again. If he had got rich and come home with a big fortune, I don't expect they'd have minded half as much."

"I like Tor the best of them all," remarked Curly, with an air of decision. "I wonder if he seems nicer because we can't remember him before he went away."

"I can just a very little," said Bunny. "At least I can remember a little bit about the fuss there was, and how angry everybody was; but I was too little to understand what it was all about, and you weren't much more than a baby."

"Well, I don't believe Tor ever did anything very naughty. I think it's a great shame how they