tifled scream from Meg.

"Here's the c--c--c--catapult, M--Meg; t--take it," Bunty said,
his face white and miserable.

"You little stupid! What do you mean coming creeping here like
this?" Meg said, angry as soon as her heart began to beat
again.

"I only w--wanted to p--p--please you, M--M-Meggie," the little
boy said, with a bitter sob in his voice.

He had put both his arms round her waist, and was burying his nose
in her white muslin dress. She shook him off hastily.

"All right; there--thanks," she said. "Now go home, Bunty;
I want to have a quiet walk in the moonlight by myself."

He screwed his knuckles as far into his eyes as they would go,
his mouth opened, and his lower lip dropped down, down.

"I t--t--told y--y--you a b--b--big st--st--story;" he wept,
rocking to and fro where he stood.

"Did you? Oh, all right! Now go home," she said impatiently.
"You always ARE telling stories, Bunty, you know, so I'm not
surprised. There-go along."

"But--but I'm--must tell you all ab--ab--about it," he said,
still engaged in driving his eyes into his head.

"No, you needn't; I'll forgive you this time," she said
magnanimously, "only don't do it again. Now run away at once,
or you won't have your map done, and miss Marsh will punish you."

His eyes returned to their proper position, likewise his hands.
His heart was perfectly light again as he turned to go back to the
house. When he had gone a few steps he came back.

"D'ye want that catapult very much, Meg?" he said gently.
"You're only a girl, so I don't 'spect it would be very much
good to you, would it?"

"No, I don't want it. Here, take it, and hurry back: think of
your map," Meg returned, in a very fever of impatience at his
slowness.

And then Bunty, utterly happy once more, turned and ran away gaily
up to the house. And Meg let down the slip-rail, put it back in
its place with trembling fingers, and fled in wild haste through
the two remaining paddocks.

The wattle-scrub at the end was very quiet; there was not a rustle,
not a sound of a voice, not a sound of the affected little laugh
that generally told when Aldith was near.

Meg stopped breathless, and peered among the bushes; there was a
tall figure leaning against the fence.

"Andrew!" she said in a sharp whisper, and forgetting in her
anxiety that she never called him by his Christian name--"where
are the others? Hasn't Aldith come?"

There was the smell of a cigar, and, lo