ng like a
great girl," he muttered. "Why, hanged if my eyes aren't quite wet."

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF.

Vane made his way straight to the rectory, with a fixed intention in his
mind. The idea had been growing for days: now it was quite ripe,
consequent, perhaps, on the state of mind produced by the scene at the
manor.

"It will be more frank and manly," he said to himself. "He's different
to us and can't help his temper, so I'll look over everything, and say
`what's the good of our being bad friends. Shake hands and forgive me.
I'm a rougher, coarser fellow than you are, and I dare say I've often
said things that hurt you when I didn't mean it.'"

"Come, he can't get over that," said Vane, half-aloud, and full of
eagerness to get Distin alone, he turned up the rectory lane, and came
at once upon Gilmore and Macey.

"Hullo, Weathercock," cried the latter, "which way does the wind blow?"

"Due east."

"That's rectory way."

"Yes; is Distie in?"

"No; what do you want with him. He doesn't want you. Come along with
us," said Gilmore.

"No, I want to see Distie--which way did he go?"

"Toward the moor," said Macey, with an air of mock mystery. "There's
something going on, old chap."

"What do you mean?"

"A little girl came and waited about the gate till we were in the
grounds, and then she began to signal and I went to her. But she didn't
want me. She said she wanted to give this to that tall gentleman."

"This?" said Vane. "What was this?"

"A piece of stick, with notches cut in it," said Macey.

"You're not chaffing, are you?"

"Not a bit of it. I went and told Distie, and he turned red as a
bubby-jock and went down to the gate, took the stick, stuck it in his
pocket, and then marched off."

"Why, what does that mean?" cried Vane.

"I don't know," said Macey. "Distie must belong to some mysterious bund
or verein, as the Germans call it. Perhaps he's a Rosicrucian, or a
member of a mysterious sect, and this was a summons to a meeting."

"Get out," cried Vane.

"Well, are you coming with us? Aleck has had a big tip from home, and
wants to spend it."

"Yes; do come, Vane."

"No, not to-day," cried the lad, and he turned off and walked away
sharply to avoid being tempted into staying before he had seen Distin,
and "had it out," as he termed it.

"Hi! Weathercock!" shouted Macey, "better stop. I've invented
something--want your advice."

"Not to be