packet of chocolate from a pocket, and giving it to Pixie to
distribute, made his escape to the house.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

A CONFIDENCE.

During the next few days the "Capting," as Viva called him, was
constantly deserting his companions to join himself to the schoolroom
party in their walks and games.

As Pixie had suspected, his heart was sore, and the innocent affection
which the children lavished upon him made their society more congenial
than that of his own companions, who were enjoying their stay in the
country in merry, uproarious fashion.

Viva and Inda were interesting and original children, while "Mamzelle
Paddy" was a house-party in herself--a delicious combination of
shrewdness and innocence. He had little chance of private conversation
with her, for the children were exacting in their demands; but their
intimacy rapidly increased, as was only natural under the circumstances.

It was impossible to remain on formal terms with one who was united with
yourself to withstand an assault of wild savages, as portrayed by two
little girls with branches of bracken waving above their heads, and
geranium petals stuck in ferocious patterns about their cheeks;
impossible not to feel an affection for the tallest member of the
battalion which marched regularly every morning to the corner of the
paddock to be drilled by their commander, scarlet sashes crossed
sideways over holland dresses, and Panama hats fastened by immaculate
black chin-straps.

In the afternoon, when the grown-up members of the household drove off
in state to attend garden parties at neighbouring mansions, the Captain
found it infinitely more enjoyable to punt slowly down the stream,
dreaming his own dreams, or listening with a smile while the older child
amused her juniors by quaint and adventurous stories.

She was always happy, this little Mamzelle Paddy. Another girl of her
age might have felt lonely and diffident in this large, bustling
household, but she was sunshine personified--content to work, content to
play, content to go on an expedition, content to be left behind, having
no desires of her own, it would appear, excepting only this one--to
love, and be loved by those around.

"Some day, Mamzelle," the Captain said, "I will take you and the
children a little jaunt on our own account. We will take a boat and go
up the river to a dear little spot which I know very well, and there we
will have tea and pretend to be Robinson C