That the two boys, instead of listening to her remonstrance, took to punching and kicking one another, was a mitigated form of evil for which she willingly compounded, having gone through so much useless interference already, that she felt as if she had no spirit left to keep the peace, and that they must settle their little affairs between themselves.  It was the most innocent diversion in which she could hope to see them indulge.  She only desired that it might last them past a thrush’s nest, in the hedge between the park and plantation, a somewhat treasured discovery of Grace’s.  No such good luck.  Either the thrush’s imprudence or Grace’s visits had made the nest dangerously visible, and it was proclaimed with a shout.  Rachel, in hot haste, warned them against taking birds’-nests in general, and that in particular.

“Nests are made to be taken,” said Francis.

“I’ve got an egg of all the Australian birds the Major could get me,” said Conrade, “and I mean to have all the English ones.”

“Oh, one egg; there’s no harm in taking that; but this nest has young birds.”

The young birds must of course be seen, and Rachel stood by with despairing frowns, commands, and assurances of their mother’s displeasure, while they peeped in, tantalized the gaping yellow throats, by holding up their fingers, and laid hands on the side of the nest, peeping at her with laughing, mischievous eyes, enjoying her distress.  She was glad at last to find them coming away without the nest, and after crossing the park, arrived at the house, tired out, but with two hours of the boys still on her hands.  They, however, were a little tired, too; and, further, Grace had hunted out the old bowls, much to the delight of the younger ones.  This sport lasted a good while, but at last the sisters, who had relaxed their attention a little, perceived that Conrade and Hubert were both missing, and on Rachel’s inquiry where they were, she received from Francis that elegant stock answer, “in their skins.”  However, they came to light in process of time, the two mothers returned home, and Mrs. Curtis and Grace had the conversation almost in their own hands.  Rachel was too much tired to do anything but read the new number of her favourite “Traveller’s Magazine,” listening to her mother with one ear, and gathering additional impressions of Sir Stephen Temple’s imprudence, and the need of their own vigilance.  To make Fanny feel that she could lean upon some one besides the military secretary, seemed to be the great object, and she was so confiding and affectionate with her own kin, that there were great hopes.  Those boys were an infliction, no doubt, but, thought Rachel, “there is always an ordeal at the beginning of one’s mission.  I am mastering them by degrees, and should do so sooner if I had them in my own hands, and no more worthy task can be done than training human beings for their work in this world, so I must be willing to go through a little while I bring them into order, and fit their mother for managing them.”