the table, and at last it became very plain that there would be no more going out that night, to the great disappointment of the boys; for though in London Fred hardly went out at all except for a walk, yet now the liberty of the morning made him feel like a caged bird, and a melancholy feeling seemed to come over all three boys as they sat watching the leaden sky, the dripping leaves, the beaten down flowers, the sandbanks by the walks, and the great drops of water that formed upon the edge of the verandah and porch, and then came down plash upon the stone pavement.

“Oh! come along,” said Harry at last; “I know what we’ll do.”

“What?” said Philip and Fred together.

“Oh! come along, you’ll see,” said the other.

Mrs Inglis was busy over some needlework, and the Squire deep in a book, so the boys slipped out of the room without any notice being taken, and perhaps half an hour passed away, when all of a sudden Mrs Inglis dropped her work and jumped out of her chair, while the Squire, leaping up, overturned his little reading-table, and with it the screened candle-lamp, breaking the glass and setting fire to the green crimped shade.

“Whatever is the matter?” said the Squire, when he had extinguished the burning paper; “whatever is the matter?” he continued, as they heard another scream similar to one that had caused the first start.

Mrs Inglis ran out of the room, and through the passage into the kitchen, from whence the sound seemed to have proceeded; and, on entering, there stood cook upon the dresser, while Mary, having knocked off the brass kitchen candlestick on to the floor, was balancing herself upon the top of the little round table, which creaked and groaned and threatened to break with the weight that had been put upon it.

“What’s the matter?” said Mrs Inglis.

“Oh! do look, mem,” said cook, “do look; there it goes again!”

And Mrs Inglis herself started, for a gritting, grinding, scraping noise was heard, and then by the light of the fire she saw one of the large tin dish covers go creeping along the kitchen floor, till it reached the wall underneath the place where it generally hung.

Mrs Inglis could not help feeling a little startled, but, knowing well that some trick must have been played, she told Mary to get down and pick up the cover and hang it in its place.

“Oh! please ’m, I dussn’t,” said Mary.

“Then I must,” said Mrs Inglis, and stepping across the kitchen, she lifted up the cover, when out popped the great black tom cat, that was generally toasting his back before the fire, but who now seemed dreadfully put out with being shut up so long under such an unpleasant prison-house.

Just then an uncontrollable burst of merriment came ringing out of the passage, where it was all dark; which gave Mrs Inglis a very good clue as to who were the authors of the mischief.

The next morning at breakfast time all the trees, flowers, buds, lawns, and hedge-rows looked soaking wet, and the rain kept pouring down,—not so heavily, certainly, as on the previous night, but quite enough to do away with all prospect of going out that day.

“A bad job, as there’s so much hay down,” said Mr Inglis; “but I think it will be fine again to-morrow, and it will swell out the corn beautifully.”

“But how wet it will be,” said Philip, “when it leaves off raining! We shan’t be able to play.”

“Oh, yes, you will,” said his father. “Why, boys, you ought to go down to the mill early to-morrow morning. Old Peagrim will have had the fish-traps open to-night, for the river will be flooded, and then you will be able to see some sport,—that is if it leaves off raining.”

“Oh! that will be capital,” said Harry; who then had to enter into a long dissertation, explaining to Fred what a fish-trap was; and how watermills went round; and which was the dam, and the tail, and the waste-water, and all the rest of it. After this they helped the Squire to arrange his cabinet of birds’ eggs; and Fred learned the difference between sparrows’ eggs, and finches’, and tits’, and larks’, etc, from the tiniest tom-tit’s egg right up to that of the wild swan, which had been known to breed in the marsh, five miles from Hollowdell; and so interested did the boys get with the work they had in hand, that the dinner-bell rang before they could believe it was more than half-past eleven.

After dinner there was the vivarium to clean out in the conservatory; and a nice job it was, for there were the globes and glass jars to bring full of clean water, and the gold fish to catch with the little net, and to place in the globes; all of which duties Mr Inglis set the boys to do, while he superintended. Then there was the syphon to draw all the water off into the pails, which Sam had to come and empty; and this syphon puzzled Fred a great deal, for he could not understand how the water could run up, and then down the other side.

“Well, but,” said Mr Inglis, “have you not learnt that at school in your lessons on physics? Do you not know that it is by atmospheric pressure; the air being exhausted from the pipe, the water is forced through?”

Fred said he had learned all these things, but never understood them well. And then, when the water was all drawn off, there was no end of little, things to pop into the glass jars of clean water. Snails, and beetles, and caddis worms; newts, frogs, toads, tadpoles, tiny crayfish, and about a dozen tiny eels; while the grandest fellow in the whole glass kingdom was a little jack, about five inches long, who wouldn’t be caught in the net, but dodged round the rock-work, and had at last to be taken out by hand. Then the bottom was all renewed with fresh gravel and stones; fresh-water plants put in; and all the inhabitants restored to their glass home to dash about with delight; while, as soon as he felt himself in fresh-water, a great mussel, that lay down at the side, put out his pretty white mantle; the snails began sailing up and down, and the water spiders began to pop in and out among the fresh plants and weave webs, just as if they were out of the water, and did not have to carry their supply of air down in a bright silvery-looking bubble attached to their bodies.

Mr Inglis said he had hard work with all his pets, for they were so fond of eating one another, and the jack was the worst of the whole party, and always in mischief; but he was such a handsome green and gold fellow, and so tame, that he could not be turned out, even though he bit off the tiny gold fish’s tail one day, and made him so bad that he died.

So what with getting the aquarium to rights, assisting to rearrange the plants in the conservatory, and helping to water them, so that they should not be teased by seeing the rain fall outside whilst they were kept dry within doors, it got to be tea-time; and, dull as the day had been, Fred declared he had enjoyed it wonderfully, and only wanted tea to be over for Mr Inglis to fulfil his promise, and show them the pictures of the sea anemones, and the other wondrous things that were found on the seashore, where they were to go one afternoon before Fred went back.

Mr Inglis used to say that he liked his boys to learn scientific things, but not after the fashion of parrots; so he used to bring before their notice the wonders of animal and vegetable life, that are spread around us waiting to be noticed; and then, in reply to their questions, give them the information they sought. The consequence was, that the lads gained a vast amount of information through having their interest excited, and what they learned in this way was never forgotten.