istic affair to be fastened firmly to
his belt, but kept saying, "be quick, be quick, Miss Bibby."

"I think I deserve a kiss, Max," she said wistfully, holding the eager
little man a moment to her; this baby of the family had made himself a
very warm corner in her heart.

[Illustration: "Then he shot away through the door."]

Max kissed her hurriedly.

"How much do you love me, darling?" persisted the misguided lady.

Quite conceivably Mrs. Lomax was in the habit of putting this question
also, but had learned the wisdom of confining it to sleepy and leisure
moments, and not obtruding it upon the strenuous time of play.

Max struggled away. "Big as th' sea, big as th' stars, big as this loom,
big as anything," he said hastily. It was his customary formula after
this troublesome question.

"You dear little boy!" said Miss Bibby, kissing his soft young cheek.
Then he shot away through the door, and she went back with rapid steps
to the collar habit of Hugh Kinross.

CHAPTER XI

MISS BIBBY'S HOLIDAY

Miss Bibby worked another half-hour, perhaps. She was nervous and
excited; she had set herself to catch the four o'clock post, and there
still were numbers of pages with which she was dissatisfied. She was
essaying, indeed, an impossible task--trying to couch Hugh Kinross's
eccentricities in dignified English prose. And the shoes, at least,
absolutely refused to be so treated; they seemed to stand out from the
article just as prominently as they had stood out among the furniture of
his room.

Miss Bibby sighed despairingly--the strain and the loss of sleep were
telling upon her.

"Miss Bibby," shouted Pauline, bursting into the room, "Miss Bibby, Miss
Bibby!"

"Run away," said Miss Bibby; "run away at once, Pauline. Surely it is
not much for me to ask to have one day--just one day to myself."

"Quick, quick!" cried Pauline, "Muffie's stood on an ant-bed, and she's
swarming!"

The shoes and the far shade of the laurel trees dropped instantly from
Miss Bibby's horizon and, the horrors of the situation overwhelming her,
she flew after Pauline to the victim.

The child's condition was piteous; absolutely mad with terror and pain,
she was rushing about on the path, Max, yelling with sympathy, tearing
after her. Lynn, at the first frantic moment when she saw her sister's
high white socks turned black with their live covering, had leapt
towards her and, with hands and pinafore, had essayed to sweep the
t