ground. Her grip was like steel, and a babel of admiring young voices
broke upon his horrified ears as his captor marched easily with him down
the garden, their progress marked by apples, which rolled out of his
pockets and bounded along the ground.

"I shall kick you," whispered Henry fiercely--ignoring the fact
that both legs were jammed together--as he caught sight of the pale,
bewildered little face of Gertrude U. F. Harcourt.

"Kick away," said Miss O'Brien sweetly, and using him as a dumb-bell,
threw in a gratuitous gymnastic display for the edification of her
pupils.

"If you come here again, you naughty little boy," said Miss Dimchurch,
who was heading the procession behind, "I shall give you to a policeman.
Open the gate, girls!"

The gate was open, and Henry, half dead with shame, was thrust into the
road in full view of the cook, who had been sent out in search of him.

"Wot, 'Enery?" said the cook in unbelieving accents as he staggered
back, aghast at the spectacle--"wotever 'ave you been a-doin' of?"

"He's been stealing my apples!" said Miss Dimchurch sternly. "If I catch
him here again I shall cane him!"

"Quite right, ma'am! I hope he hasn't hurt anybody," said the cook,
unable to realize fully the discomfiture of the youth.

Miss Dimchurch slammed the gate and left the couple standing in
the road. The cook turned and led the way down to the town again,
accompanied by the crestfallen Henry.

"'Ave a apple, cook?" said the latter, proffering one; "I saved a beauty
a-purpose for you."

"No, thanks," said the cook.

"It won't bite you," said Henry shortly.

"No, and I won't bite it either," replied the cook.

They continued their way in silence, until at the market-place Henry
paused in front of the "Farmer's Arms."

"Come in and 'ave a pint, old chap," he said cordially.

"No, thankee," said the cook again. "It's no use, Enery, you don't git
over me in that way."

"Wot d'ye mean?" blustered the youth.

"You know," said the other darkly.

"No, I don't," said Henry.

"Well, I wouldn't miss tellin' the other chaps, no, not for six pints,"
said the cook cheerfully. "You're a deep un, 'Enery, but so am I."

"Glad you told me," said the out-generalled youth "Nobody'd think so to
look at your silly, fat face."

The cook smiled indulgently, and, going aboard, left his youthful charge
to give the best explanation he could of his absence to the skipper--an
explanation which was marred fo