t in
front of him whenever Mary was there, and then suddenly, very straight
and very grave, would stare at her as though he were the most devout
and obedient dog in the place. Indeed, he bore her no malice; he could
afford to disregard the Marys of this world, and of women in general he
had a poor opinion. But he loved to tease, and Mary was an easy prey. He
had his fun with her.

After the affair of the sea-picnic, Jeremy was for some time under a
cloud. It was felt that he was getting too big for anyone to manage. It
was not that he was wicked, not that he kept bad company with the boys
on the farm, or was dishonest, or told lies, or stole things--no, he
gave no one that kind of anxiety--but that he was developing quite
unmistakably a will of his own, and had a remarkable way of doing what
he wanted without being actually disobedient, which was very puzzling
to his elders. Being a little in disgrace he went off more than ever by
himself, always appearing again at the appointed time, but telling
no one where he had been or what he had been doing. His father had
no influence over him at all, whilst Uncle Samuel could make him do
whatever he wanted--and this, as Aunt Amy said, "was really a pity."

"It's a good thing he's going to school in September," sighed his
mother. "He's getting out of women's hands."

Mary longed with feverish longing to share in his adventures. If only
he would tell her what he did on these walks of his. But no, only Hamlet
knew. Perhaps, if he did not go with the dog he would go with her. When
this idea crept into her brain she seized it and clutched it. That was
all he wanted--a companion! Were Hamlet not there he would take her.
Were Hamlet not there... She began to brood over this. She wandered...
She considered. She shuddered at her own wickedness; she tried to drive
the thoughts from her head, but they kept coming.

After all, no one need know. For a day or two Jeremy would be sorry
and then he would forget. She knew the man who went round selling
dogs--selling dogs and buying them.

She shuddered at her wickedness.

III

The last days of August came, and with them the last week of the
holiday. Already there was a scent of autumn in the air, leaves were
turning gold and red, and the evenings came cool and sudden, upon the
hot summer afternoons. Mary was not very well; she had caught a cold
somewhere, and existed in the irritating condition of going out one day
and being hel