said, for into his mind had floated a vision of
Margaret dressed in her ball-finery and dancing as Freddy's sister
would dance--dancing with other men.

"Then that settles it," Freddy said. "We'll go a buster to-morrow
night and we'll make up for it after. You can begin real work next
week, Meg--sorting and painting, if you care to."

When Freddy was ready to start off to his work, Meg went with him. It
was too early for the sun to be dangerous and the air was deliciously
fresh and clean. Meg's hands were dug deep down into the pockets of
her white silk jersey, just as her brother's were dug deep down into
the pockets of his white flannel coat. Meg's long limbs looked almost
as clean-cut as her brother's in her closely-fitting white skirt. As
Michael watched them walk off together, he said to himself, "They are
absurdly alike; they are like twins--they see eye to eye and think mind
to mind."

As he said the words his sense of Meg contradicted his last remark, for
he knew that he could say things to Meg which Freddy would not
understand; he knew that if they had thought mind to mind he would not
have asked her to keep the secret which they now held between them.

Thoughts full of tender affection for Freddy made him feel happily
contented; to have such a friend and to be allowed to work with him was
a privilege deserving of sincere thanks. For a few moments he stood
lost in gratitude and praise. These dreaming moments, about which he
was so often good-naturedly chaffed, were not entirely wasted; they
gave him the spiritual food his nature demanded. The desert holds many
prayers.

"Why so abstracted to-day, Meg?" Freddy said, as they reached the site
of excavation. Margaret was no great talker at any time, but there was
something new in her silence this morning and Freddy felt it.

"Am I abstracted? I didn't know it."

"A bit off colour? Are you feeling the sun? You'd better go back
before it gets any hotter and rest more to-day, if we're to go to the
dance to-morrow."

"Oh, I adore the sun," Meg said. "I believe in my former incarnation I
worshipped it."

"A disciple of Akhnaton? I think we all are, if we only knew it. Poor
Akhnaton!"

"Oh, Freddy, who was this Akhnaton? No, I forgot--don't tell me." Her
voice, for Meg, was emotional, excited. "I want to spell things out
for myself."

"What do you know about him?" Freddy said. "I thought you hadn't begun
reading yet? Has Mike been pre