peared to dawn, for on calling at 'The
Magnolias' to see Ernest Churchouse, Raymond was cheered by a promised
event which might contain possibilities. Estelle had scored a point and
got Abel to promise to come for a picnic.

"He made a hard bargain though," she said. "He's to light a fire and
boil the kettle. And we are to stop at the old store in West Haven for
one good hour on the road home. I've agreed to the terms and shall give
him the happiest time I know how."

"Is his mother going?"

"Yes--he insists on that. And Sabina will come."

"But don't hope too much of it," said Ernest. "I regard this as the thin
end of the wedge--no more than that. If Estelle can win his confidence,
then she may do great things; but she won't win it at one picnic. I know
him too well. He's a mass of contradictions. Some days most
communicative, other days not a syllable. Some days he seems to trust
you with his secrets, other days he is suspicious if you ask him the
simplest question. He's still a wild animal, who occasionally, for his
own convenience, pretends to be tame."

"I shan't try to tame him," said Estelle. "I respect wild things a great
deal too much to show them the charms of being tame. But it's something
that he's coming, and if once he will let me be his chum in holidays, I
might bring him round to Ray."

She planned the details of the picnic and invited Raymond to imagine
himself a boy again. This he did and suggested various additions to the
entertainment.

"Did Sabina agree easily?" he asked, still returning to the event as
something very great and gratifying.

"Not willingly, but gradually and cautiously."

"She's softer and gentler than she was, however. I can assure you of
that," said Mr. Churchouse.

"She thought it might be a trap at first," confessed Estelle.

"A trap, Chicky! You to set a trap?"

"No, you, Ray. She fancied you might mean to surprise the boy and bully
him."

"How could she think so?"

"I assured her that you'd never dream of any such thing. Of course I
promised, as she wished me to do so, that you wouldn't turn up at the
picnic. I reminded her how very particular you were, and how entirely
you leave it to Abel to come round and take the first step."

"Be jolly careful what you say to him. He's a mass of prejudice, where
I'm concerned, and doesn't even know I'm educating him."

"I'll keep off you," she promised. "In fact, I only intend to give him
as good a day as I can. I'm no