you, Sam," cried Fred, tauntingly. "What?"

"Well, he said so last night."

"Ashamed of me, sir. I should like to see him be 'shamed of me. I'd
give him something to be 'shamed about."

"Oh yes, of course," cried Fred; and he ran on, forgetting all about the
gardener in his eagerness to get to the lake.

The birds were twittering and singing in the woods and coppices, the
soft, silvery mists were rising from the hollow, and each broad fern
frond glistened as if set with tiny jewels of every prismatic hue. Away
too in the distance, as he topped a hill, one corner of the Hall lake
could be seen glistening like burnished silver set in a frame of vivid
green.

But these were too common objects to take the boy's attention as he
walked up the hill slope and trotted down the other side, for he was
intent upon one thing only, a faint indication of which was given by his
exclaiming once--

"How surprised old Scar will be!"

It was not to go under his window and rouse Scar by throwing pebbles up
at the lattice-pane, for instead of taking the dewy path round, by the
high trees, which would have taken him at once to the house, Fred ran
down the sharp slope into the little coombe, through which ran off the
surplus waters of the lake. Here there was a clump of alders growing
amongst the sandstone rocks, and three of the larger trees had been cut
down to act as posts, to one of which the old flat-bottomed boat was
fastened by a chain.

The boy had about fifty yards to go through this clump of alders, a
little winding path trampled by the cattle forming his way; and along
this he turned, so as to get to the opening where the trees had been cut
down, and the boat lay.

But before he was three-parts of the way through, he heard a peculiar
scraping sound, followed by a splash, and then a repetition, and another
repetition, in regular rhythm and measure.

Fred stopped short, listening. "How tiresome!" he muttered. "Scar must
have told old Nat to bale her out before he went to bed. Wonder how
long he'll be?" Evidently intending to wait until the man whom he heard
was gone, Fred crept softly along, listening to the rhythmic splash of
water, till he could peer through the thin growth at the person bailing
out the boat.

No sooner did he catch sight of him than he dashed forward to where
Scarlett sat on the edge of the old punt wielding a shallow iron pot.

"Fred!"

"Scar!"

"Why, what brought you over so soon?"