sult of such
wide experience was that he did not like hard work at all. Neither could
he even be content to accept and enjoy, without labor of his own, the
many good things provided for him. He was always trying to discover
something which never seemed to answer, and continually flying after
something new, of which he never got fast hold. In a word, he was
spoiled, by nature first, and then by circumstances, for the peaceful
life of his ancestors, and the unacknowledged blessings of a farmer.

"Willie dear, will you come with me?" Mary said to him that day,
catching him as he ran down stairs to air some inspiration. "Will you
come with me for just one hour? I wish you would; and I would be so
thankful."

"Child, it is quite impossible," he answered, with a frown which set off
his delicate eyebrows and high but rather narrow forehead; "you always
want me at the very moment when I have the most important work in hand.
Any childish whim of yours matters more than hours and hours of hard
labor."

"Oh, Willie, but you know how I try to help you, and all the patterns
I cut out last week! Do come for once, Willie; if you refuse, you will
never, never forgive yourself."

Willie Anerley was as good-natured as any self-indulged youth can be; he
loved his sister in his way, and was indebted to her for getting out of
a great many little scrapes. He saw how much she was in earnest now, and
felt some desire to know what it was about. Moreover--which settled
the point--he was getting tired of sticking to one thing for a time
unusually long with him. But he would not throw away the chance of
scoring a huge debt of gratitude.

"Well, do what you like with me," he answered, with a smile; "I never
can have my own way five minutes. It serves me quite right for being so
good-natured."

Mary gave him a kiss, which must have been an object of ambition to
anybody else; but it only made him wipe his mouth; and presently the two
set forth upon the path toward Bempton.

Robin Lyth had chosen well his place for meeting Mary. The lane (of
which he knew every yard as well as he knew the rocks themselves)
was deep and winding, and fringed with bushes, so that an active and
keen-eyed man might leap into thicket almost before there was a fair
chance of shooting him. He knew well enough that he might trust Mary;
but he never could be sure that the bold "coast-riders," despairing by
this time of catching him at sea, and longing for the weight of