squandered, though, to do him justice, the actual amount is most probably one-and-twopence. Also, if I see aright—for it is always twilight in this land of memories—he sticks an eyeglass in his eye, and stumbles over everything.
His female relations, much troubled at these things, pray for him (bless their gentle hearts!) and see visions of Old Bailey trials and halters as the only possible outcome of such reckless dissipation; and the prediction of his first schoolmaster, that he would come to a bad end, assumes the proportions of inspired prophecy.
He has a lordly contempt at this age for the other sex, a blatantly good opinion of himself, and a sociably patronising manner towards all the elderly male friends of the family. Altogether, it must be confessed, he is somewhat of a nuisance about this time.
It does not last long, though. He falls in love in a little while, and that soon takes the bounce out of him. I notice his boots are much too small for him now, and his hair is fearfully and wonderfully arranged. He reads poetry more than he used, and he keeps a rhyming dictionary in his bedroom. Every morning, on the floor, Emily Jane find scraps of torn-up paper, and reads thereon of "cruel hearts and love's deep darts," of "beauteous eyes and lovers' sighs," and much more of the old, old song that lads so love to sing, and lassies love to listen to, while giving their dainty heads a toss, and pretending never to hear.
