of Dill's premises. I had been there before; we had
all been there before. Dill had a daughter. I saw her now in a
sunbonnet and laced boots. I may say at once that Betsy Dill was very
pretty, in a fine, robust style, and all four of us were decidedly
enamored of her charms. Usually we courted her in a body, and
scrupulous fairness was observed in the matter of seeking private
interviews.

Smugg had never spoken to her--so we should all have sworn. But now my
wondering eyes saw, opposite Pyrrha (we began from this day to call her
Pyrrha) the figure of Smugg. Pyrrha was leaning against a barn, one
foot crossed over the other, her arms akimbo, a string of her bonnet in
her mouth, and her blue eyes laughing from under long lashes. Smugg
stood limply opposite her, his trousers bagging over his half-bent
knees, his hat in one hand, and in the other a handkerchief, with
which, from time to time, he mopped his forehead. I could not hear (of
course I did not wish to) what they were saying; indeed, I have my
doubts if they said anything; but presently Smugg moved a hesitating
step nearer, when Pyrrha, with a merry laugh, darted by him and ran
away, turning a mocking face over her shoulder. Smugg stood still for
a minute, then put on his hat, looked at his watch, and walked slowly
away.

I did not keep Smugg's secret; I felt under no obligation to keep it.
He deserved no mercy, and I exposed him at breakfast that very morning.
But I could not help being a little sorry for him when he came in. He
bent his head under the shower of reproach, chaff, and gibing; he did
not try to excuse himself; he simply opened his book at the old place,
and we all shouted the old ode, substituting "Betsa" for "Pyrrha"
wherever we could. Still, in spite of our jocularity, we all felt an
under-current of real anger.

We considered that Smugg was treating Pyrrha very badly--Smugg, an
engaged man, aged thirty, presumably past the heat and carelessness of
youth. We glowed with a sense of her wrongs, and that afternoon we
each went for a solitary walk--at least, we started for a solitary
walk--but half an hour later we all met at the gate leading to Dill's
meadows, and, in an explosion of laughter, acknowledged our secret
design of meeting Pyrrha, and opening her eyes to Smugg's iniquity.

The great surprise was still to come. At eleven the next morning, when
we had just sat down to work, and Smugg had slid into the room with the
stealt