ld admire Sir Launcelot, feeling how much there was in
common between that early lamented knight and himself. That little
affair with Sir Bedivere. It was just how he would have behaved
himself.

Ah! yes, admitted Malvina. She had "liked" him. He was always so--so
"excellent."

"But he was not--none of them were my own people, my own dear
companions." The little cloud had settled down again.

It was Bruno who recalled the three of them to the period of
contemporary history.

Polley the cowman's first duty in the morning was to let Bruno loose
for a run. He arrived panting and breathless, and evidently offended
at not having been included in the escapade. He could have given them
both away quite easily if he had not been the most forgiving of
black-and-tan collies. As it was, he had been worrying himself crazy
for the last half-hour, feeling sure they had forgotten the time.
"Don't you know it's nearly six o'clock? That in less than half an
hour Jane will be knocking at your doors with glasses of hot milk, and
will probably drop them and scream when she finds your beds empty and
the window wide open." That is what he had intended should be his
first words, but on scenting Malvina they went from him entirely. He
gave her one look and flopped down flat, wriggling towards her, whining
and wagging his tail at the same time. Malvina acknowledged his homage
by laughing and patting his head with her foot, and that sent him into
the seventh heaven of delight. They all four descended the hill
together and parted at the orchard gate. The twins expressed a polite
but quite sincere hope that they would have the pleasure of seeing
Malvina again; but Malvina, seized maybe with sudden doubts as to
whether she had behaved with discretion, appears to have replied
evasively. Ten minutes later she was lying asleep, the golden head
pillowed on the round white arm; as Mrs. Muldoon on her way down to the
kitchen saw for herself. And the twins, fortunate enough to find a
side door open, slipped into the house unnoticed and scrambled back
into their beds.

It was quarter past nine when Mrs. Arlington came in herself and woke
them up. She was short-tempered with them both and had evidently been
crying. They had their breakfast in the kitchen.

During lunch hardly a word was spoken. And there was no pudding. Mr.
Arlington, a stout, florid gentleman, had no time for pudding. The rest
might sit and enjoy it at their leisu