llers would be far away, or perhaps they should
be safe within the boundaries of the Happy Land.

Before breakfast the following morning Darby repeated his appointed
task, proofs and all, without so much as a single blunder. The children
went with their aunts to church as usual. In the evening Auntie Alice
remarked to her sister how very quiet the little ones had been all day.
Aunt Catharine also had noticed their subdued demeanour. She set it down
to the chastening effect of penitence for their recent disobedience, and
hoped that it might continue during the days of their absence at least.

"Good-bye, pets," said Auntie Alice to the children the next day, as
they hung about the basket-carriage and Billy, waiting to take his
mistresses to the station. "Cheer up, Darby," she whispered. "Be a good
brother, and take care of Joan; and see and be happy until we come
back."

"Yes, Auntie Alice, I'll take care of her, sure. And we're going to be
very, very happy," he added, with a look of exultation in his eyes that
haunted his aunt until she saw him again.--"Aren't we, Joan?"

"Yes, werry, werry happy!" murmured Joan out of a tousle of sunny hair.
"Good-bye, Auntie Alice. Kiss Joan again."

"There, that will do. Stand clear of the wheel, both of you," said Aunt
Catharine, settling her ample figure comfortably into the little
basket-chaise. "Don't dirty that nice clean pinafore, Joan; and Darby,
see that you wash your hands properly before dinner."

The aunts departed, and by the time they had reached the first stage on
their journey, two little travellers stepped bravely out at the front
door, down the gravelled drive, through the wide gate, and there they
halted to hold a hurried council as to which way they should go.

Up the hill in one direction sloped the broad white road that led past
Copsley Wood. No Happy Land lay in its vicinity! By another route, along
which Billy and the basket-carriage had vanished, was the station; but
who ever heard of any one arriving at the Happy Land by rail! Some other
way still they must seek to bring them to their destination.

From the gable end of Firgrove the fields slid gradually down until they
were merged in a long, level stretch of meadow ground, through which was
cut a deep, straight canal, whose waters reached like a shining silver
belt across the emerald sward of the surrounding pasture-lands. Many a
time Darby and Joan had sat on the garden wall watching the dingy
barge-