of moonlight,
and soon came to the house, which was low and built round a quadrangle
big enough to get plenty of sunshine in it. Walter Allen, Dick's friend,
was leaning against the jamb of the doorway waiting for us, and took us
into the hall without overplus of words. There were not many people in
it, as some of the dwellers there were away at the haymaking in the
neighbourhood, and some, as Walter told us, were wandering about the
meadow enjoying the beautiful moonlit night. Dick's friend looked to be
a man of about forty; tall, black-haired, very kind-looking and
thoughtful; but rather to my surprise there was a shade of melancholy on
his face, and he seemed a little abstracted and inattentive to our chat,
in spite of obvious efforts to listen.

Dick looked on him from time to time, and seemed troubled; and at last he
said: "I say, old fellow, if there is anything the matter which we didn't
know of when you wrote to me, don't you think you had better tell us
about it at once? Or else we shall think we have come here at an unlucky
time, and are not quite wanted."

Walter turned red, and seemed to have some difficulty in restraining his
tears, but said at last: "Of course everybody here is very glad to see
you, Dick, and your friends; but it is true that we are not at our best,
in spite of the fine weather and the glorious hay-crop. We have had a
death here."

Said Dick: "Well, you should get over that, neighbour: such things must
be."

"Yes," Walter said, "but this was a death by violence, and it seems
likely to lead to at least one more; and somehow it makes us feel rather
shy of one another; and to say the truth, that is one reason why there
are so few of us present to-night."

"Tell us the story, Walter," said Dick; "perhaps telling it will help you
to shake off your sadness."

Said Walter: "Well, I will; and I will make it short enough, though I
daresay it might be spun out into a long one, as used to be done with
such subjects in the old novels. There is a very charming girl here whom
we all like, and whom some of us do more than like; and she very
naturally liked one of us better than anybody else. And another of us (I
won't name him) got fairly bitten with love-madness, and used to go about
making himself as unpleasant as he could--not of malice prepense, of
course; so that the girl, who liked him well enough at first, though she
didn't love him, began fairly to dislike him. Of course, those of