it true that you gave sister Emily horrid live things that curled
themselves up into so-called pills, and she swallowed them and nearly
died afterward? Is it true--tell me?"

"It's quite true," said Irene, all the dancing wickedness coming to the
front at once, and her eyes blazing with anger.

"Then you are a really wicked girl. You might have been had up by the
police and put into prison."

"And what if I had, you wicked boy--for you are about the wickedest and
rudest boy I have ever come across? Much do I care! I wanted her to go,
and I thought that would be a good way to get rid of her."

"Oh, that's all right!" said Hugh. "I'll just go and tell Agnes. I'll
tell her that you'll do things of that sort to her, that you are a sort
of witch, and will show your true colors before long. Now, what is the
matter?"

"You sha'n't tell her. You daren't!" said Irene.

She caught both his hands as though in a vise. He was amazed at their
strength, also at the beautiful, extraordinary passion of her face.
Rosamund started up to interfere.

"Come, children," she said, "don't quarrel. Hughie, you do extremely
wrong to speak in that tone to Irene. Come and have a walk with me. You
know I am going away to-morrow, and I wouldn't have asked Irene to
invite you both to this beautiful house, and to give you such a splendid
holiday, if I hadn't thought you were going to be quite good. Ah! here
comes Agnes."

Agnes was seen flying across the lawn. She was wearing a pretty white
dress, and her whole dainty little figure, with her light hair flying
wildly behind her, made her a most charming little picture. She dashed
up to Irene, flung her arms round her neck, and kissed her passionately.

"Oh," she said, "it seemed hours while I was away from you! I was with
Emily, and Emily says that perhaps I had better not eat plums--at least
not more than one or two."

"Then I'll pick out the ripest in the basket for you," said Irene, her
voice trembling.

"You take care there are no--no live things"----

"Hush, Hughie! Come with me," said Rosamund; and she pulled the
reluctant boy out of the summer-house.

"Now, Hughie," she said when she had got him quite by herself, "I want
to know, in the first instance, exactly how old you are."

"I was fourteen my last birthday," he said, drawing himself up to his
full height.

"You suppose yourself to be a good bit of a man, don't you?"

"Well, I'm not far from being a man, am I, Rosamund? Yo