Another hideous and silencing frown was Ripton’s answer. Adrian matched the innocent youths, and knew that there was talking under the table. “See,” thought he, “this boy has tasted his first scraggy morsel of life today, and already he talks like an old stager, and has, if I mistake not, been acting too. My respected chief,” he apostrophized Sir Austin, “combustibles are only the more dangerous for compression. This boy will be ravenous for Earth when he is let loose, and very soon make his share of it look as foolish as yonder game-pie!”—a prophecy Adrian kept to himself. Uncle Algernon shambled in to see his nephew before the supper was finished, and his more genial presence brought out a little of the plot. “Look here, uncle!” said Richard. “Would you let a churlish old brute of a farmer strike you without making him suffer for it?” “I fancy I should return the compliment, my lad,” replied his uncle. “Of course you would! So would I. And he shall suffer for it.” The boy looked savage, and his uncle patted him down. “I’ve boxed his son; I’ll box him,” said Richard, shouting for more wine. “What, boy! Is it old Blaize has been putting you up!” “Never mind, uncle!” The boy nodded mysteriously. ‘Look there!’ Adrian read on Ripton’s face, he says ‘never mind,’ and lets it out! “Did we beat to-day, uncle?” “Yes, boy; and we’d beat them any day they bowl fair. I’d beat them on one leg. There’s only Watkins and Featherdene among them worth a farthing.” “We beat!” cries Richard. “Then we’ll have some more wine, and drink their healths.” The bell was rung; wine ordered. Presently comes in heavy Benson, to say supplies are cut off. One bottle, and no more. The Captain whistled: Adrian shrugged. The bottle, however, was procured by Adrian subsequently. He liked studying intoxicated urchins. One subject was at Richard’s heart, about which he was reserved in the midst of his riot. Too proud to inquire how his father had taken his absence, he burned to hear whether he was in disgrace. He led to it repeatedly, and it was constantly evaded by Algernon and Adrian. At last, when the boy declared a desire to wish his father good-night, Adrian had to tell him that he was to go straight to bed from the supper-table. Young Richard’s face fell at that, and his gaiety forsook him. He marched to his room without another word.