at having
lost you. They had been playing the game in severe silence, and at a
turn in the grove missed you altogether. Oh, here comes Scobel, with
his trencher on the back of his head."

The Vicar came forward, rejoicing at sight of Violet's white gown.

"My dear, what a turn you have given us!" he cried; "those silly
children, to let you out of their sight! I don't think a wood is a good
place for Blindman's Buff."

"No more do I," answered Vixen, very pale.

"You look as if you had been frightened, too," said the Vicar.

"It did feel awfully lonely; not a sound, except the frogs croaking
their vespers, and one dismal owl screaming in the distance. And how
cold it has turned now the sun has gone down; and how ghostly the
beeches look in their green mantles; there is something awful in a wood
at sunset."

She ran on in an excited tone, masking her agitation under an unnatural
vivacity. Roderick watched her keenly. Mr. and Mrs. Scobel went back to
their business of getting the children together, and the pots, pans, and
baskets packed for the return-journey. The children were inclined to be
noisy and insubordinate. They would have liked to make a night of it in
this woody hollow, or in the gorse-clothed heights up yonder by Stony
Cross. To home after such a festival, and be herded in small stuffy
cottages, was doubtless trying to free-born humanity, always more or
less envious of the gipsies.

"Shall we walk up the hill together?" Roderick asked Violet humbly,
"while the Scobels follow with their flock?"

"I am going to drive Mr. and Mrs. Scobel," replied Vixen curtly.

"But here is your carriage?"

"I don t know. I rather think it was to meet us at the top of the hill."

"Then let us go up together and find it--unless you hate me too much to
endure my company for a quarter of an hour--or are too angry with me
for my impertinence just now."

"It is not worth being serious about," answered Vixen quietly, after a
little pause. "I was very angry at the moment, but after all--between
you and me--who were like brother and sister a few years ago, it can't
matter very much. I daresay you may have kissed me in those days,
though I have forgotten all about it."

"I think I did--once or twice," admitted Rorie with laudable gravity.

"Then let your impertinence just now go down to the old account, which
we will close, if you please, to-night. But," seeing him drawing nearer
her with a sudden eagerness, "mind, it is