ly
psychological--the memory of the loss of a loved little brother subtly
interwoven with horror of that particular species of venomous insect.
Christine herself had a greater hatred of spiders than of any creeping
things, and well understood the child's panic of disgust and fear. It
filled her with indignation to hear Mrs. van Cannan turn once more and
lash the boy with a phrase before she swept from the room.

"Miserable little coward!"

In a moment, the girl was kneeling on the floor beside the unhappy
child, holding him tight, whispering words of love and comfort.

"No, no, darling; it is only that she does not understand! We will
explain to her--I will tell her later why you hated it so. Wait till
your daddy comes back. I am sure he will understand."

So she strove to comfort him, while Meekie coaxed the little girls back
to the horizontal attitude under their sheets.

"Don't make me go back into that bed," whispered Roddy fearfully.

"No; of course not. Don't worry; just trust me, darling!" She turned
to Meekie. "I will stay with them now, Meekie. You may go."

"But has the missy had her dinner?" asked the Cape woman politely.

"I have had all I want, thank you, Meekie."

The thought of going back to the dinner-table--to eat and join in the
talk and laughter while this small boy whom she loved stayed alone with
his wretchedness revolted her. Perhaps later, when he slept, she might
slip out into the garden for a while. In the meantime, she beguiled
him over to her own bed, and having taken off the coverlet to show him
that it held no lurking horrors, she made him get in and curl up, and
she knelt beside him, whispering softly so as not to disturb the
others, reassuring him of her belief in his courage whilst
understanding his horror, confessing her own hatred of spiders, but
urging him to try and fight against his fear of them. She told him
stories of her own childhood, crooned little poems to him, and sang old
songs softly, hoping and praying that he would presently fall asleep.
But time slipped by, and he remained wide-eyed, gripping her hand
tightly, and only by the slightest degrees relaxing the nervous rigour
of his body under the coverlet. Suddenly, he startled her by a strange
remark:

"If I could only get into the pink palace with Carol, I'd be all right."

The girl looked down into the distended pupils gazing so wistfully at
her, and wondering what new psychological problem she had