The whole party went out, and found Wat Greenwood waiting for them with a bundle of straw, a spade, and a little gunpowder. Maurice carried a basket containing all his preparations, on which Wat looked with supreme contempt, telling him that his puffs were too green to make a smeech. Maurice, not condescending to argue the point, ran on to a nest which Reginald had marked on one of the green banks of the ancient moat. ‘Take care that the wasps are all come in; mind what you are about, Maurice,’ called his father. ‘Master Maurice,’ shouted Wat, ‘you had better take a green bough.’ ‘Never mind, Wat,’ said Lord Rotherwood, ‘he would not stay long enough to use it if he had it.’ Reginald ran after Maurice, who had just reached the nest. ‘There is one coming in, the evening is so warm they are not quiet yet.’ ‘I’ll quiet them,’ said Maurice, kneeling down, and putting his first puff-ball into the hole. Reginald stood by with a sly smile, as he pulled a branch off a neighbouring filbert-tree. The next moment Maurice gave a sudden yell, ‘The wasps! the wasps!’ and jumping up, and tripping at his first step, rolled down the bank, and landed safely at Lord Rotherwood’s feet. The shouts of laughter were loud, but he regarded them not, and as soon as he recovered his feet, rushed past his sisters, and never stopped till he reached the house. Redgie stood alone, in the midst of a cloud of wasps, beating them off with a bough, roaring with laughter, and calling Wat to bring the straw to burn them. ‘No, no, Redgie, come away, leave them for Maurice to try again,’ said his father. ‘The brute, he stung me,’ cried Reginald, knocking down a wasp or two as he came down. ‘What is this?’ added he, as he stumbled over something at the bottom of the slope. ‘Oh! Maurice’s basket; look here—laudanum—did he mean to poison the wasps?’ ‘No,’ said Jane, ‘to cure their stings.’ ‘The poor unhappy quiz!’ cried Reginald. While the others were busy over a nest, Mr. Mohun asked Emily how the boy got at the medicine chest. Emily looked confused, and said she supposed Jane had given him a bottle. ‘Jane is too young to be trusted there,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘I thought you knew better; do not let the key be out of your possession again.’ After a few more nests had been taken in the usual manner, they returned to the house. Maurice was lying on the sofa reading the _Penny Magazine_, from which he raised his eyes no more that evening, in spite of all the jokes which flew about respecting wounded knights, courage, and the balsam of Fierabras. He called Jane to teach her how flies were made, and as soon as tea was over he went to bed. Reginald, after many yawns, prepared to follow his example, and as he was wishing his sisters good-night, Emily said, ‘Now, Redgie, do not go out at such a preposterous hour to-morrow morning.’ ‘What is that to you?’ was Reginald’s courteous inquiry.