ou were still;
you had to be awfully quiet, too, for flowers and plants, otherwise you
couldn't see the real jolly separate life there was in them. Even the
boulders down there, that old Godden thought had been washed up by the
Flood, never showed you what queer shapes they had, and let you feel
close to them, unless you were thinking of nothing else. Sylvia, after
all, was better in that way than he had expected. She could keep quiet
(he had thought girls hopeless); she was gentle, and it was rather jolly
to watch her. Through the leaves there came the faint far tinkle of the
tea-bell.

She said: "We must get down."

It was much too jolly to go in, really. But if she wanted her tea
--girls always wanted tea! And, twisting the cord carefully round the
branch, he began to superintend her descent. About to follow, he heard
her cry:

"Oh, Mark! I'm stuck--I'm stuck! I can't reach it with my foot! I'm
swinging!" And he saw that she WAS swinging by her hands and the cord.

"Let go; drop on to the branch below--the cord'll hold you straight till
you grab the trunk."

Her voice mounted piteously:

"I can't--I really can't--I should slip!"

He tied the cord, and slithered hastily to the branch below her; then,
bracing himself against the trunk, he clutched her round the waist and
knees; but the taut cord held her up, and she would not come to anchor.
He could not hold her and untie the cord, which was fast round her waist.
If he let her go with one hand, and got out his knife, he would never be
able to cut and hold her at the same time. For a moment he thought he
had better climb up again and slack off the cord, but he could see by her
face that she was getting frightened; he could feel it by the quivering
of her body.

"If I heave you up," he said, "can you get hold again above?" And,
without waiting for an answer, he heaved. She caught hold frantically.

"Hold on just for a second."

She did not answer, but he saw that her face had gone very white. He
snatched out his knife and cut the cord. She clung just for that moment,
then came loose into his arms, and he hauled her to him against the
trunk. Safe there, she buried her face on his shoulder. He began to
murmur to her and smooth her softly, with quite a feeling of its being
his business to smooth her like this, to protect her. He knew she was
crying, but she let no sound escape, and he was very careful not to show
that he knew, for fear she sho