the street, Bluebell was wavering, but the last
sentence, "when we are alone," struck her ear unpleasantly.

"How can I?" said she; "I do not know you well enough."

"Walk with me sometimes," whispered Bertie, "and that reason will
disappear, but don't say a word about it to-day, there's a dear girl.
I had better make tracks for the club; you will be at home in five
minutes,"--and Du Meresq ceremoniously lifted his cap, for many eyes were
about, and disappeared down another block.

Bluebell on finding herself alone, went through a disagreeable reaction.
It was certainly only a few yards to her destination; but it was annoying
to be left so abruptly, and an air of secrecy thrown over her actions
too. Did she like him, or hate him? She could not determine; her fancy
and her vanity were both touched, doubtless; then, remembering Miss
Opie's exhortations, a gleam of fun twinkled in her eyes as she thought
of what her horror would have been at Bertie's affectionate ease of
manner.

All the same she crept into the house, feeling very underhand and
uncomfortable. None of the party had returned, so reprieved for the
present she went up to the nursery.

Freddy was roaring on his back, he had just thrown "Peep-of-Day" at the
nurse's head, which had been unwisely offered to him as a substitute for
his favourite trumpet, when its excruciating blasts become too
unbearable.

"Oh, I'm sure I'm glad you have come back, miss, for I don't know how to
abide that wearyin' child, as don't know what a whipping is. Here's your
governess, sir, as will put you in the corner."

"Hold your tongue, you fool!" cried Freddy with supreme contempt.

The _suaviter in modo_ was, indeed, the only treatment allowed in that
nursery. Bluebell retreated with a highly-coloured scrap-book to the
window, which she feigned complete absorption in. Freddy glanced at it
out of the tail of his eye.

"Show me that, Boobell."

"I don't know, Freddy," said the girl, feeling some slight moral coercion
incumbent on her. "Do you _think_ you will call nurse a fool again?"

"She shouldn't bother," said the infant, confidentially, climbing into
her lap, but declining to commit himself to any pledges of good
behaviour. "Show me the book."

Half-an-hour after, Mrs. Rolleston looking in, saw a pretty little
picture--the old nurse was nodding in a rocking-chair. Bluebell's fair
young face was bending over Freddy, seated on her lap, with as arm round
her neck, his