ent. "But Christmas is the time for
liberties of all sorts and unheard-of requests--have you any of the
latter, fair lady?" and the surgeon halted behind her.

"I have one little wish, and 'tis about uncle and his den," ventured
Inna, blushing a little.

"Well, suppose you tell me, and let me be the go-between--no enviable
part to play, remember, to put a finger in anybody's pie, much more in
that of a doctor and a young lady combined."

"May I put a bit of holly in uncle's den?"

"Make Christmas in the lion's den, eh, Oscar! Well, I'm off; but let me
make sure of my errand. I go to prefer a petition from the lamb to the
lion for permission to enter his den with a flag of truce." In he went
into the study.

"In the name of the lion, I say go in, little lamb, and at once," he
came out almost immediately to say, and he stood by Oscar and the holly
heap, while Fairy Inna went on her magic mission.

After that evening the doctor's study doors were open to Inna once and
again; she tapped timidly for permission to go in and make up his fire
on the cold evenings which came in with the new year, when snow lay upon
the ground, and Mrs. Grant told her that most likely her studious,
absorbed uncle was sitting with his fire gone out, and she herself dared
not intrude to replenish it.

"Come in, dear," he would say at such times. "You'll not disturb me."
And before the winter was over he named her his "Little Salamander;" and
once or twice peeped out and called for her when she did not come.

Well, winter was over at last, and March on its blustering way; the
lambs in the fields, the colts in their paddock, and young exultant life
everywhere. It was holiday time with Inna, for Miss Gordon was away with
that invalid somebody again. Dick Gregory was still running wild in his
happy banishment from school; Jenny, _alias_ Trapper, was running wild
with him whenever she could persuade the dear old lady who played the
part of governess to her to forego her tales of ill-learnt lessons. A
sad dunce was busy Mr. Gregory allowing his merry little daughter to
grow up to be.

Well, with so many holiday keepers, Oscar dared to join hands, and to
take French leave, as he called it, in plotting and planning an
expedition to the Tor without asking permission of his uncle. Not that
he anticipated a refusal, but just because young people will persist in
thinking stolen waters are sweet--sweeter than any other waters. Ah,
well! we know what