terrors to fear, and she said
aloud, "Tony, I shall race you to the gate," and in a whisper, "Then you
can hide," and off they ran.

Tony could always outdistance her easily, but never had she known him
speed away so quickly as now, and she was sure he hurried that he might
have more time to hide. "Brave, brave!" her doting eyes were crying when
she got a dreadful shock; instead of hiding, her hero had run out at the
gate! At this bitter sight Maimie stopped blankly, as if all her lapful
of darling treasures were suddenly spilled, and then for very disdain
she could not sob; in a swell of protest against all puling cowards she
ran to St. Govor's Well and hid in Tony's stead.

When the ayah reached the gate and saw Tony far in front she thought her
other charge was with him and passed out. Twilight came on, and scores
and hundreds of people passed out, including the last one, who always
has to run for it, but Maimie saw them not. She had shut her eyes tight
and glued them with passionate tears. When she opened them something
very cold ran up her legs and up her arms and dropped into her heart.
It was the stillness of the Gardens. Then she heard clang, then from
another part clang, then clang, clang far away. It was the Closing of
the Gates.

Immediately the last clang had died away Maimie distinctly heard a voice
say, "So that's all right." It had a wooden sound and seemed to come
from above, and she looked up in time to see an elm tree stretching out
its arms and yawning.

She was about to say, "I never knew you could speak!" when a metallic
voice that seemed to come from the ladle at the well remarked to the
elm, "I suppose it is a bit coldish up there?" and the elm replied, "Not
particularly, but you do get numb standing so long on one leg," and he
flapped his arms vigorously just as the cabmen do before they drive off.
Maimie was quite surprised to see that a number of other tall trees were
doing the same sort of thing, and she stole away to the Baby Walk and
crouched observantly under a Minorca Holly which shrugged its shoulders
but did not seem to mind her.

She was not in the least cold. She was wearing a russet-coloured pelisse
and had the hood over her head, so that nothing of her showed except her
dear little face and her curls. The rest of her real self was hidden far
away inside so many warm garments that in shape she seemed rather like a
ball. She was about forty round the waist.

There was a good de