Misunderstood. Florence Montgomery

even remember his mother; but in the mind of the elder boy her memory was still, at times, fresh and green.

      Weeks and months might pass without his thoughts dwelling on her, but all of a sudden, a flower, a book, or some little thing that had belonged to her, would bring it all back, and then the little chest would heave, the curly head would droop, and the merry brown eyes be dimmed by a rush of tears.

      There was a full-length picture in the now unused drawing-room of Lady Duncombe, with Humphrey in her arms; and at these times, or when he was in some trouble with Virginie, the boy would steal in there, and lie curled up on the floor in the darkened room; putting himself in the same attitude that he was in in the picture, and then try to fancy he felt her arms round him, and her shoulder against his head.

      There were certain days when the room was scrubbed and dusted; when the heavy shutters were opened, and the daylight streamed upon the picture. Then the two little brothers might be seen standing before it, while the elder detailed to the younger all he could remember about her.

      Miles had the greatest respect and admiration for Humphrey. A boy of seven, who wears knickerbockers, is always an object of veneration to one of four, who is as yet limited to blouses: but Miles' imagination could not soar beyond the library and dining-room; and he could not remember the drawing-room otherwise than a closed room; so his respect grew and intensified as he listened to Humphrey's glowing description of the past glories of the house, when the drawing-room was one blaze of light, when there were muslin curtains in the windows, and chintz on all the chairs; and mother lay on the sofa, with her work-table by her side.

      Dim and shadowy was the little fellow's idea of the "mother" of whom his brother always spoke in softened tones and with glistening eyes; but that she was something very fair and holy he was quite sure.

      Deep was his sense of his inferiority to Humphrey in this respect; and a feeling akin to shame would steal over him when one of their long conversations would be abruptly put an end to by Humphrey's quick, contemptuous "It's no use trying to make you understand, because you don't remember her."

      A very wistful look would come over the pretty little face on these occasions, and he would humbly admit his great degradation.

      It was Miles' admiration for his brother that was the bane of Virginie's life. Timid by nature, Miles became bold when Humphrey led the way; obedient and submissive by himself, at Humphrey's bidding he would set Virginie at defiance, and for the time be as mischievous as he.

      That "l'union fait la force," Virginie had long since discovered, to the ruin of her nerves and temper.

      And now Virginie has several times suggested that if Humphrey will submit to a water-proof coat, and goloshes, he may go and meet his father at the station; and Humphrey has consented to come to terms if Miles may go too.

      But here Virginie is firm. No amount of wrapping up would prevent Miles catching cold on so damp and rainy a day, as she knows well, by fatal experience; so the fiat has gone forth, either Humphrey will go alone, or both will stay at home.

      "Don't go," pleaded little Miles, as they pressed their faces against the window; "it will be so dull all alone with Virginie."

      "She's a cross old thing," muttered Humphrey; "but never mind, Miles, I won't go without you, and we'll count the raindrops on the window to make the time pass quick."

      This interesting employment had the desired effect, and the next half-hour soon slipped by. Indeed, it was so engrossing, that the dog-cart came up the avenue, and was nearly at the hall door, before the little boys perceived it.

      "Qu'est-ce que c'est donc!" exclaimed Virginie, startled by Humphrey's jump from the window-sill to the floor.

      "C'est mon père," was all the information he vouchsafed her, as he rushed out of the room.

      "M. votre père! Attendez done que je vous arrange un peu les cheveux."

      She spoke to the winds: nothing was heard of Humphrey but sundry bumps and jumps in the distance, which told of his rapid descent down the stairs.

      The more tardy Miles was caught and brushed, in spite of his struggles, and then he was off to join his brother.

      He reached the hall door just as the carriage drove up, and the two little figures jumped and capered about, while a tall, dark gentleman divested himself of his mackintosh and umbrella, and then came up the steps into the house.

      He stooped down to kiss the eager faces. "Well, my little fellows, and how are you both? No bones broken since last week? No new bruises and bumps, eh?"

      They were so taken up with their father, that they did not perceive that he was not alone, but that another gentleman had got out of the dog-cart, till Sir Everard said—

      "Now go and shake hands with that gentleman. I wonder if you know who he is?"

      Humphrey looked up into the young man's face, and said, while his color deepened—

      "I think you are my Uncle Charlie, who came to see us once a long time ago before you went to sea, and before–"

      "Quite right," said Sir Everard, shortly; "I did not think you would have remembered him. I daresay, Charlie, Humphrey has not altered very much; but this little fellow was quite a baby when you went away," he added, taking Miles up in his arms, and looking at his brother-in-law for admiration.

      "What a likeness!" exclaimed Uncle Charlie.

      Sir Everard put the child down with a sigh.

      "Like in more ways than one, I am afraid. Look here," pointing to the delicate tracery of the blue veins on the forehead, and the flush on the fair cheek.

      Humphrey had been listening intently to this conversation, and his father being once more occupied with kissing Miles, he advanced to his uncle, and put his hand confidingly in his.

      "You are a nice little man," said Uncle Charlie, laying his other hand on the curly head; "we were always good friends, Humphrey. But," he added, half to himself, as he turned up the bright face to his, and gazed at it intently for a moment, "you are not a bit like your mother."

      The dressing-gong now sounded, and the little boys proceeded to their father's room, to help or hinder him with his toilette.

      Miles devoted himself to the carpet-bag, in expectation of some tempting paper parcel; while Humphrey's attentions were given to first one and then the other of the articles he was extracting from the pocket of the coat Sir Everard had just thrown off.

      A suspicious click made the baronet turn round.

      "What have you got hold of, Humphrey?"

      An open pocket-knife dropped from the boy's hand he had just succeeded in opening the two blades, and was in the act of trying the edges on his thumb nail.

      Failing in that experiment, his restless fingers strayed to the dressing-table, and an ominous silence ensued.

      "Humphrey," shouted his father, "put my razor down."

      In the glass he had caught sight of a well-soaped face, and spoke just in time to stop the operation.

      Punishment always follows sin, and Humphrey was dispatched to the nursery to have his face sponged and dried.

      By taking a slide down the banisters, however, he made up for lost time, and arrived at the library-door at the same time as his father and brother.

      Uncle Charlie was standing by the window, ready dressed; and the gong sounding at that moment, they all went in to dinner.

      The two little brothers had a chair on each side of their father, and an occasional share in his food.

      Dinner proceeded in silence. Uncle Charlie was enjoying his soup, and Sir Everard, dividing himself between his little boys and his meal.

      "It's William's birthday to-day," said Humphrey, breaking silence.

      The unfortunate individual in white silk stockings, thus suddenly brought into public notice, reddened to the roots of his hair; and in his confusion nearly dropped the dish he was in the act of putting down before his master.

      "He's twenty-two years old to-day," continued Humphrey; "he told me