laughter. It was
the same heart's music that Hugh Ritson and Mr. Bonnithorne had heard in
the road. Allan's face brightened, and his voice had only the faintest
crack in it as he said:

"That's Greta's laugh! It is for sure! What a heartsome lass yon is! I
like a heartsome lassie--a merrie touch, and gone!"

"Yes," said Mrs. Ritson, soberly; "Greta is a winsome girl."

It was hardly spoken when a young girl bounded down upon them, almost
breathless, yet laughing in gusts, turning her head over her shoulder
and shouting:

"Hurrah! Beaten, sir! Hurrah!"

It was Greta Lowther; twenty years of age, with fair hair, quick brown
eyes, a sunny face lighted up with youthful animation, a swift smile on
her parted lips--an English wild white rose.

"I've beaten him," she said. "He challenged me to cross Windybrowe while
he ran round the Bowder stone, but I got to the lonnin before he had
crossed the bridge."

Then, running to the corner of the lane, she plucked off her straw hat,
waved it about her head, and shouted again in an accent of triumph:

"Hurrah! hurrah! beaten, sir, beaten!"

Paul Ritson came running down the fell in strides of two yards apiece.

"Oh, you young rogue--you cheated!" he cried, coming to a stand and
catching his breath.

"Cheated?" said Greta, in a tone of dire amazement.

"You bargained to touch the beacon on the top of Windybrowe, and you
didn't go within a hundred yards of it."

"The beacon? On Windybrowe?" said the girl, and wondrous perplexity
shone in her lovely eyes.

Paul wiped his brow, and shook his head and his finger with mock gravity
at the beautiful cheat.

"Now, Greta, now--now--gently--"

Greta looked around with the bewildered gaze of a lost lambkin.

"Mother," said Paul, "she stole a march on me."

"He was the thief, Mrs. Ritson; you believe me, don't you?"

"Me! why I never stole anything in my life--save one thing."

"And what was that, pray?" said Greta, with another mighty innocent
look.

Paul crept up to her side and whispered something over her shoulder,
whereupon she eyed him largely, and said with a quick smile:

"You don't say so! But please don't be too certain of it. I'm sure I
never heard of that theft."

"Then here's a theft you shall hear of," said Paul, throwing one arm
about her neck and tipping up her chin.

There was a sudden gleam of rosy, roguish lips. Old Allan, with mischief
dancing in his eyes, pretended to recover them from a more dis