ing. Fred,
himself, was tempted as he peeped over the gap, and stood irresolute.
The plantation was far enough from the residence of the owner, nor was
it likely that they could do much mischief beyond frightening the game,
and as it was not sitting time, Fred himself argued it could do no harm,
but little Riches, the boy called Pure, who was a great admirer of Fred,
especially since the affair of the Dahlias, begged him not to go; "Mr.
Barton, you know, has such a great dislike to our trespassing," said
Riches, "and if we stay here resolutely they will be sure to come back."

"Don't preach to me," was the rather unexpected reply, for Fred was not
_perfect_ yet, though he had gained a victory or two over his temper of
late.

"I didn't mean to preach, but I do wish the boys would come home, it is
growing late; and with our heavy baskets we shall only just get in in
time."

"Halloo!" shouted Fred, getting on the bank. "Come back, won't you, or
we shall be too late; come, John, you are the eldest, come along." But
his call was drowned in the sound of their voices, which were echoing
through the weeds, much to the annoyance, no doubt, of the stately
pheasants who were not accustomed to human sounds like these. They were
not at any great distance, and Fred could just distinguish parts of
their conversation.

John and Harcourt were urging White, a delicate boy, and no climber, to
mount a high tree in the wood, to enjoy they said the glorious sea-view;
but in reality to make themselves merry at his expense, being certain
that if he managed to scramble up he would have some difficulty in
getting down, and would get a terrible fright at least. White stood at
the bottom of the tree, looking at his companions as they rode on one of
the higher branches of a fine spruce fir.

"Don't venture! White," shouted Fred as loudly as he could shout, "don't
attempt it! They only want to make game of you, and you'll never get
down if you manage to get up. Take my advice now, don't try."

"Mind your own business," and a large sod of earth was the reply. The
sod struck the boy on the face, and his nose bled profusely.

"There," said young Riches, "what a cowardly trick! Oh! I think White
the meanest spirited boy I ever saw. He wouldn't have flung that sod at
you if you had been within arm's length of him; well, I do dislike that
White."

"I'll give it to him," said Fred, as he vaulted over the fence, but
immediately words, which Emilie