driving, and last and best of all Queen Mab herself, arrived at the time appointed; but only one of her nephews was waiting at the rendezvous.
"Why, where's Jack?"
"He got into a scrape this morning, and is kept in. What's more, he says it's my fault, and we've had a row about it. I don't think we ever shall be friends, aunt."
"Oh, you mustn't say that. In a fortnight's time we shall all be at Brenlands together, and then we must try to rub some of the sharp corners off this perverse young gentleman. I must come back with you to the school and try to see him before I drive home."
In the quiet retirement of Mr. Copland's classroom, Jack was writing lines when a messenger came to inform him that some one wished to see him in the visitors' room.
"Bother it! Aunt Mabel," he said to himself. "I suppose I must go," he added, swishing the ink from his pen and throwing it down on the desk. "What a bore relations are! I wish they'd let me alone."
From their one brief meeting years before, neither aunt nor nephew would have recognized each other now had they met in the streets, and so this was like making a fresh acquaintance. Jack had heard only one half of a very lopsided story, and though he took no interest in the family disagreement, yet he was inclined to be suspicious of his grown-up relations. He marched down the passage, jingling his keys with an air of defiance; but when he entered the visitors' room, and saw the bright smile with which his aunt greeted his appearance, he dropped the swagger and became stolidly polite. She, for her part, had come prepared for the conquest which she always made; his awkward, boyish manner and uncared-for appearance, the dissatisfied look upon his face, and the ink stains on his collar, all were noticed in one loving glance, and touched her warm heart.
"Well, Jack," she said, "you see Mahomet has come to the mountain. How are you, dear?"
Jack muttered that he was quite well. It was rather embarrassing to be called "dear." He attempted to hide his confusion by wiping his nose; but in producing his handkerchief, he pulled out with it a forked catapult stick and a broken metal pen-holder, which clattered to the ground and had to be picked up again.
"How you've grown!" said Queen Mab, "and – my senses! what muscles you've got," she added, feeling his arm.
Jack grinned and bent his elbow, the next moment he straightened it again.
"Go on!" he said; "you're chaffing me."
"I'm not. I wish you'd been at Brenlands at Easter, and I'd have set you to beat carpets. Never mind, I shall have you with me in a fortnight."
"I don't think I shall come," he began.
"Stuff and nonsense!" interrupted the aunt. "I say you are coming. Valentine never makes excuses when I send him an invitation. Don't you think I know how to amuse young people?"
"Oh, yes; it's not that."
"Then what is it?"
"I don't know," answered the boy, grinning, and kicking the leg of the table.
"Of course you don't; so you've got to come. Valentine's sisters will be there; you'd like to meet the two girls?"
"No, I shouldn't."
"Oh, shocking! you rude boy."
Jack stood on one leg and laughed; this was like talking to a fellow in the Upper Fourth, and his tongue was loosed.
"They'd hate me," he said; "I don't know anything about girls."
"I should think you didn't. Wait till you see Helen and Barbara."
"But there's another thing. I haven't got any clothes."
"My dear boy, how dreadful! Whose are those you are wearing now?"
"Oh, go on, aunt; what a chaff you are! I don't mean that – I – "
"No, you evidently don't know what you mean. Well, one thing's settled, you're coming to Brenlands for the summer holidays."
The battle was won, and Queen Mab had gained her usual victory.
"How is your father? Didn't he send me any message?"
"Yes, I think he told me to give you his love."
"Is that all?"
"Well, that's a jolly sight more than what he sends to most people," answered the boy.
He would have been surprised to have seen that there were tears in her eyes when she walked out of the school gates, and still more astonished to know that it was love for his unworthy self which brought them there; for little did Fenleigh J. of the Upper Fourth imagine that any one would come so near to crying on his account.
That evening, just before supper, Valentine felt some one touch him on the shoulder, and turning round saw that it was his cousin.
"I've seen Queen Mab, as you call her," remarked the latter, "and, I say – I like her – rather."
"I knew you would. She's an angel – only jollier."
"She made me promise I'd go there for the holidays."
"Oh, that's fine!" cried Valentine. "I thought she would; she's got such a way of making people do what she wants. I am glad you are going; you'll enjoy it awfully."
Fenleigh J. regarded the speaker for a moment with rather a curious glance. In view of the events of the morning he rather expected that his cousin would not be overpleased to hear that he had been asked to spend the holidays at Brenlands; and that Valentine should rejoice at his having accepted the invitation, struck him as being rather odd.
"Look here, Val," he blurted out, "I'm sorry I called you a sneak this morning. It was my fault, and you're a good sort after all."
"Oh, stop it!" answered the other. "I'll forgive you now that you've promised to go to Brenlands."
Queen Mab was at home, miles away by this time; yet, as a result of her flying visit, some of the softening influence of her presence and kindly usages of her court seemed to linger even amid the rougher and more turbulent atmosphere of Melchester School.
CHAPTER IV.
THE COURT OF QUEEN MAB
"They were swans … the ugly little duckling felt quite a strange sensation as he watched them." – The Ugly Duckling.
During the short period which elapsed between Queen Mab's visit and the end of the term Jack managed to steer clear of misfortune; but on the last evening he must needs break out and come to grief again.
He incited the occupants of the Long Dormitory to celebrate the end of work by a grand bolster fight, during the progress of which conflict a pillow was thrown through the ventilator above the door. It so happened that, at that moment, Mr. Copland was walking along the passage; and a cloud of feathers from the torn case, together with fragments of ground glass, being suddenly rained down on his unoffending head, he was naturally led to make inquiries as to the cause of the outrage. As might have been expected, Fenleigh J. was found to be the owner of the pillow which had done the damage, and he was accordingly kept back on the following day to pay the usual penalty of an imposition.
"I'll take your luggage on with me," said Valentine. "You get out at Hornalby,
