, if he was quick. When he reached the
boot-house it was as he feared, no Muggridge was there; but to his horror
someone else was--no other than Mrs. Minards herself, and at sight of her
Paul turned and fled in dismay. Too much scared to know what he was doing
he ran swiftly through the yard, and into the kitchen-garden. At that
moment a clock struck five and he knew that his mother would be expecting
him down to tea now. What could he do? He could not get back to the
house again; he peeped out and saw people moving about in the yard and at
the doorway; it was impossible to get past unobserved. But those boots
must be got rid of somehow. He looked about the garden eagerly for a spot
in which to hide them, but a high stone wall surrounded the place, and the
garden itself was so neat and tidy there was no chance of hiding anything
there without the risk of being found out. And Mrs. Minards, he
remembered, was always pottering about in her garden.

There was no time to spare either, and at the thought that in a moment his
mother or some one would be searching for him, he fled out of the garden
into the open country beyond. Outside the walls lay the moor, the big
brown old moor. Surely here he could find a hiding-place for his
unfortunate boots, and could tell Muggridge where to look for them.
It was a splendid idea, he thought; there could not be a better
hiding-place, and running as fast as his feet could carry him to a clump
of furze, he pushed his boots far in under the bush, took one glance to
see that all was safe, and fled back again to the garden-door.

"Paul, Pau--aul." He heard his own name being called, and ran on with a
new fear in his heart. What would they think of him and his tale of his
sprained foot if he reached them breathless and hot? So he slackened his
pace, and when he came to the door leading from the garden into the yard
he sauntered through in the most easy, casual manner he knew how to
assume. When he came in sight of the house he saw his mother standing at
the door. As soon as she saw him she beckoned him to hurry.

"Why, Paul dear, where have you been? Tea has been ready a long time, and
I have searched for you all over the house. How hot and flushed and tired
you look. Is your foot paining you? You should not have gone out, you
know."

He was afraid to speak lest his breathlessness should betray him.
"It is not so very bad now, thank you. I think it is getting better."
He