th the cabbage-tree
hat he kept for the garden pushed back from his brow. He was rather
heated after his tussle with his second son, and there was a thoughtful
light in his eyes. He did not believe the truth of Bunty's final
remark, but still he considered there was sufficient probability in it
to make a visit to the shed not altogether superfluous.

Not that he expected, in any case, to find his errant daughter there,
for had not Bunty said there was a picnic down at the river? But he
thought, there might be some trace or other.

The door of the shed swung back on its crazy hinges, and the sunlight
streamed in and made a bar of glorified dust across the place.

There was no sign of habitation here, unless a hair ribbon of Meg's
and some orange peel, might be considered as such.

He saw the shaky, home-made ladder, resting against the hole in the
ceiling, and though he had generally more respect for his neck than
his children had for theirs, he ventured his safety upon it. It
creaked ominously as he reached the top step and crawled
through into the loft.

There were a ham-bone, a box of dominoes, and a burst pillow this
side of the partition, nothing else, so he walked across and
looked over.

"Very cosy," he murmured, "I shouldn't mind camping here myself
for a little time," and it even came into his head to do so, and be
there as a "surprise party" when Judy returned. But he dismissed the
idea as hardly compatible with dignity. He remembered hearing
rumours of missing furniture in the house, and almost a smile came
into his eyes as he saw the little old table with the spirit-lamp and
teapot thereon, the bed-clothing and washing-basin. But a stern
look succeeded it. Were seventy-seven miles not sufficient obstacle
to Judy's mischievous plans? How did she dare thus to defy him, a
child of thirteen: and he her father? His lips compressed
ominously, and he went down again and strode heavily back to the
house.

"Esther!" he called, in a vibrating voice at the foot of the
stairs.

And "Coming, dear--half a minute," floated down in response.

Half a minute passed ten times, and then she came, the beautiful young
mother with her laughing-faced wee son in her arms. Her eyes looked
so tender; and soft, and loving that he turned away impatiently; he
knew quite well how it would be; she would beg and entreat him to
forgive his little daughter when she heard, and when she looked as
bright and beautiful as s