"Not suggest, Bob--far from it. If I happen to say that it would be a most reprehensible thing if anyone were to do something, somehow or other that is the very thing that Jack and you do. It was only last week I said that it would be a very objectionable trick if anyone was to tie paper bands round the neck of the clergyman's black cat--who is always stealing our chickens--and to my surprise, the next morning, when we started for business, there was quite a crowd outside his house, watching the cat calmly sitting over the porch, with white bands round its neck. Now, that is an example of what I mean." "Quite so, Mr. Medlin, that is just what I meant, too; and it was much better than throwing stones at him. It is a savage beast, though it does look so demure; and scratched Jack's hand and mine, horribly, when we were tying on the bands." At the tree the others met them, and they laughed and chatted all the way back; the young ones expressing much regret, however, that Bob was to be away at Christmas. At the appointed time, Mr. Bale and Bob took their places on the coach. The latter felt a little oppressed; for his uncle had, the evening before, been putting him through a sort of examination as to the value of wines; and had been exceedingly severe when Bob had not acquitted himself to his satisfaction, but had mixed up Malaga with Madeira, and had stated that a French wine was grown near Cadiz. "I expect I shall know them better when I get to taste them," Bob had urged, in excuse. "When you don't know anything about the wines, it is very difficult to take an interest in them. It is like learning that a town in India is on the Ganges. You don't care anything about the town, and you don't care anything about the Ganges; and you are sure to mix it up, next time, with some other town on some other river." "If those are your ideas, Robert, I think you had better go to bed," Mr. Bale had said, sternly; and Bob had gone to bed, and had thought what a nuisance it was that his uncle was going down to Portsmouth, just when he wanted to be jolly with Carrie and her husband for the last time. Little had been said at breakfast, and it was not until the coach was rattling along the high road, and the last house had been left behind him, that Bob's spirits began to rise. There had been a thaw, a few days before, and the snow had disappeared; but it was now freezing sharply again. "The air is brisk. Do you feel it cold, Robert?" Mr. Bale said, breaking silence for the first time. "I feel cold about the toes, and about the ears and nose, uncle," Bob said, "but I am not very likely to feel cold, anywhere else." His uncle looked down at the boy, who was wedged in between him and a stout woman. "Well, no," he agreed; "you are pretty closely packed. You had better pull that muffler over your ears more. It was rather different weather when you went down to Canterbury in the summer."