g dramatic and demonstrative. It
was hardly worth while to frighten the girl if she would not entertain
him in return. He called, "Miss Helstone!"

She did not hear or turn. He hastened after and overtook her.

"Come; are you uneasy about what I said?"

"You know nothing about death, Martin; you are too young for me to talk
to concerning such a thing."

"Did you believe me? It's all flummery! Moore eats like three men. They
are always making sago or tapioca or something good for him. I never go
into the kitchen but there is a saucepan on the fire, cooking him some
dainty. I think I will play the old soldier, and be fed on the fat of
the land like him."

"Martin! Martin!" Here her voice trembled, and she stopped.

"It is exceedingly wrong of you, Martin. You have almost killed me."

Again she stopped. She leaned against a tree, trembling, shuddering, and
as pale as death.

Martin contemplated her with inexpressible curiosity. In one sense it
was, as he would have expressed it, "nuts" to him to see this. It told
him so much, and he was beginning to have a great relish for discovering
secrets. In another sense it reminded him of what he had once felt when
he had heard a blackbird lamenting for her nestlings, which Matthew had
crushed with a stone, and that was not a pleasant feeling. Unable to
find anything very appropriate to _say_ in order to comfort her, he
began to cast about in his mind what he could _do_. He smiled. The lad's
smile gave wondrous transparency to his physiognomy.

"Eureka!" he cried. "I'll set all straight by-and-by. You are better
now, Miss Caroline. Walk forward," he urged.

Not reflecting that it would be more difficult for Miss Helstone than
for himself to climb a wall or penetrate a hedge, he piloted her by a
short cut which led to no gate. The consequence was he had to help her
over some formidable obstacles, and while he railed at her for
helplessness, he perfectly liked to feel himself of use.

"Martin, before we separate, assure me seriously, and on your word of
honour, that Mr. Moore is better."

"How very much you think of that Moore!"

"No--but--many of his friends may ask me, and I wish to be able to give
an authentic answer."

"You may tell them he is well enough, only idle. You may tell them that
he takes mutton chops for dinner, and the best of arrowroot for supper.
I intercepted a basin myself one night on its way upstairs, and ate half
of it."

"And who waits on him