mbers from their day's labour, hummed and
buzzed around him, much to the annoyance of Sober, the old sheep dog,
who lay stretched at his feet. Tib, the ugly cat, had taken up a
discreet position at a little distance from the hives, and sat very wide
awake, with the only eye she possessed on the alert for any stray game
that might pass that way.

Neither Peter nor his companions saw Lilac; they all appeared absorbed
in their own reflections, and the former had fixed his gaze vacantly on
the copse beyond the orchard. A little while ago she would have passed
quickly on without a moment's hesitation, but now she felt a sort of
sympathy with Peter. She was lonely, and he was lonely; besides, he had
been kind to None-so-pretty. So presently she made a little rustle,
which roused Sober from his slumbers. He raised his head, and finding
that it was a friend wagged his bushy tail and resumed his former
position; but this roused Peter too, and he slowly turned his eyes upon
Lilac and stared silently. Knowing that it would be useless to wait for
him to speak, she said timidly:

"How pretty your pinks grow!"

Peter got up from his seat and looked seriously over the railing at the
pinks.

"They're well enough," he said; "but the slugs and snails torment 'em
so."

"I think they're as pretty as can be," said Lilac; "and that sweet you
can smell 'em ever so far. We had some up yonder," she added, with a
nod towards the hills, "but they never had such blooms as yours."

"Maybe you'd like a posy," said Peter, suddenly blurting out the words
with a great effort.

Receiving a delighted answer in the affirmative he fumbled for some time
in his pocket, and having at last produced a large clasp knife bent over
his flower bed.

The conversation having got on so far, Lilac felt encouraged to continue
it, and looked round her for a subject.

"This is a nice, pretty corner to sit in," she said; "but don't the bees
terrify you?"

Peter straightened himself up with the flowers he had cut in one hand,
and stared in surprise.

"The bees!" he repeated.

He strode up to the hives, took up a handful of bees and let them crawl
about him, which they did without any sign of anger.

"Why ever don't they sting yer?" asked Lilac, shrinking away.

"They know I like 'em," answered Peter, returning to his flowers. "They
know a lot, bees do."

"I s'pose they're used to see you sitting here?" said Lilac.

Peter nodded. "They're rare