ink you'd better go first and do some
chopping. This dress may be a poor thing but it's my own and likely to
be for some time to come. And short of doing a sort of snake act, I
don't see how we're going to get through there."

Val applied the shears ruthlessly to vine and bush alike, glad to find
something to attack. The weight of his depression was still upon him. It
was all very well for Ricky to talk so lightly of getting a job, but
talk would never put butter on their bread--if they could afford bread.

"You certainly have done a fine job of ruining that!"

Val surpassed Ricky's jump by a good inch. By the old bake oven stood a
woman. A disreputable straw hat with a raveled brim was pulled down over
her untidy honey-colored hair and she was rolling up the sleeves of a
stained smock to bare round brown arms.

"It's very plain to the eye that you're no gardener," she continued
pleasantly. "And may I ask who you are and what you are doing here? This
place is not open to trespassers, you know."

"We did think we would explore," answered Ricky meekly. "You see, this
all belongs to my brother." She swept her hand about in a wide circle.

"And just who is he?"

"Rupert Ralestone of Pirate's Haven."

"Good--!" Their questioner's hand flew to cover her mouth, and at the
comic look of dismay which appeared on her face, Ricky's laugh sounded.
A moment later the stranger joined in her mirth.

"And here I thought that I was being oh so helpful to an absent
landlord," she chuckled. "And this brother of yours is _my_ landlord!"

"How--? Why, we didn't know that."

"I've rented your old overseer's house and am using it for my studio. By
the way, introductions are in order, I believe. I am Charity Biglow,
from Boston as you might guess. Only beans and the Bunker Hill Monument
are more Boston than the Biglows."

"I'm Richanda Ralestone and this is my brother Valerius."

Miss Biglow grinned cheerfully at Val. "That won't do, you know; too
romantic by far. I once read a sword-and-cloak romance in which the hero
answered to the name of Valerius."

"I haven't a cloak nor a sword and my friends generally call me Val, so
I hope I'm acceptable," he grinned back at her.

"Indeed you are--both of you. And what are you doing now?"

"Trying to find a building known as the carriage house. I'm beginning to
believe that its existence is wholly mythical," Val replied.

"It's over there, simply yards from the direction in which yo