he broad leaves pretty
well hid the injured places, and Marcus walked away smiling as he
thought of the encounter he had had, while passing his fingers daintily
over bruise and cut, and feeling gently a place or two that were tender
still. He walked down one path and up another of the garden, his eyes
wandering about to see if Serge were busy there; but he was absent, and
there was no sign of him in the farmyard, and none of the labourers whom
he found at work could give any news of his whereabouts.

For quite half an hour the boy wandered about the well-kept little
estate of his father before beginning to return towards the villa
embowered in flowers that had been carefully trained over the stone
walls, when, going round to the back, he heard a burring sound as if
someone with a very unmusical voice were trying to sing; and, hurrying
along a path, after muttering impatiently, the boy made for an open
window, grasping the fact that he had had all his walk and search for
nothing, and that, if he had gone round to the two rooms set apart for
the old soldier's use before going out, he would have found him there.

Marcus dashed up to the window, and looked in.

"Why, Serge," he cried, "I've been hunting for you everywhere! Ah!
What are you doing there?"

Without waiting for an answer, the boy drew sharply back, ran to an open
doorway, entered and made his way at once into Serge's room, a rough
museum in its way of the odds and ends of one who acted as herdsman,
gardener, and general odd man to the master of the little country Roman
villa.

"Why, I have just come in time!"

"Oh, here you are, then," said Serge, ignoring the boy's question.
"Well, what did the master say about the broken vines?"

"Nothing," replied Marcus.

"Well, about your cuts and bruises?"

"Nothing," said the boy again.

"He must have said something, seeing how you're knocked about."

"No, he must not."

"What!"

"He was so quiet and thoughtful yesterday evening, and again this
morning, that he hardly looked at me at breakfast time; and when we went
into the study he took up the new volume he is reading, and hardly
raised his head again."

"Then you haven't been scolded for fighting?"

"Not in the least."

"So much the better for you."

"But I say, what in the world is the meaning of all this?" cried the
boy, as he stepped to the rough table, upon which, bright with
polishing, was a complete suit of armour such as would have been