to flee. But Betty never quite knew herself--was never in any
crisis of her life absolutely certain what this second terribly
insistent self would do.

Instead of scampering away with Cyril through the night, her feet had
taken her to the windows, and the proportions of her plan had grown
gloriously, albeit her heart-beats could be heard aloud.

Now, when her chain clanked, it seemed to her the war drum had been
sounded. She darted from the verandah across the path and snatched the
baby from her brother's arms; then, running back to the verandah, her
chain clanked again and again, and she rent the air with a dismal wail--

"Father! Father!"

From the depths of an easy chair whose back was to her there rose the
tall bent figure of an old man.

Betty had arranged to "rend the air with wail upon wail"--to "press her
pinched white face, and her little one's, time after time upon the
window pane," but opportunity interfered, the window flew up, and Betty
crouched on the floor in terror.

In the banana grove Cyril fled from tree to tree, crying dismally. The
darkness, the screams, the chain, the opening of the window, had each
and all terrified him almost past endurance. Now he felt convinced his
grandfather was chasing him with the emus.

Meanwhile Betty on the verandah was also quaking. A stern voice from the
open window demanded "Who is there?" but her fortitude was not equal to
a wail.

"I heard some one say 'Father, Father,' I'll swear," said a somewhat
familiar boyish voice.

"I saw a face," said the old man.

And then Baby began to whimper piteously, and Betty's heart sank into
her shabby small shoes.

Footsteps were coming her way; the inevitable was at hand and she
recognized it, and with an effort stood upright cuddling the baby close.

The old man put his hand on her shoulder, and with a "I'll just trouble
you--this way please," and not so much as a quaver in his voice, led her
into the brightly-lighted study.

And there followed him "big John Brown," of mathematical and pugilistic
renown.

He stared at Betty very hard, and Betty stared at him--only for a
moment, though, for Baby began to cry and had to be hushed--and the
chain clanked and frightened her while it produced no visible effect
upon her grandfather.

The old man turned sharply to the wondering boy.

"Is this a trick of yours, John?" he demanded sharply.

"No," said Betty, "it's--it's only me," and she looked straight into her