Harry led Hugh by the hand to the dining-room, a large oak hall with Gothic windows, and an open roof supported by richly carved woodwork, in the squares amidst which were painted many escutcheons parted by fanciful devices. Over the high stone carving above the chimney hung an old piece of tapestry, occupying the whole space between that and the roof. It represented a hunting-party of ladies and gentlemen, just setting out. The table looked very small in the centre of the room, though it would have seated twelve or fourteen. It was already covered for luncheon; and in a minute Euphra entered and took her place without a word. Hugh sat on one side and Harry on the other. Euphra, having helped both to soup, turned to Harry and said, “Well, Harry, I hope you have enjoyed your first lesson.” “Very much,” answered Harry with a smile. “I have learned pigs and horseback.” “The boy is positively clever,” thought Hugh. “Mr. Sutherland”—he continued, “has begun to teach me to like creatures.” “But I thought you were very fond of your wild-beast book, Harry.” “Oh! yes; but that was only in the book, you know. I like the stories about them, of course. But to like pigs, you know, is quite different. They are so ugly and ill-bred. I like them though.” “You seem to have quite gained Harry already,” said Euphra, glancing at Hugh, and looking away as quickly. “We are very good friends, and shall be, I think,” replied he. Harry looked at him affectionately, and said to him, not to Euphra, “Oh! yes, that we shall, I am sure.” Then turning to the lady—“Do you know, Euphra, he is my big brother?” “You must mind how you make new relations, though, Harry; for you know that would make him my cousin.” “Well, you will be a kind cousin to him, won’t you?” “I will try,” replied Euphra, looking up at Hugh with a naïve expression of shyness, and the slightest possible blush.