a ladder
from the hallan; when you were near the top of the ladder your head hit
a trap-door and pushed it open. At one end of the garret was the bed,
and at the other end were piled sticks for firewood and curious
dark-colored slabs whose smell the children disliked until Tommy said,
excitedly, "Peat!" and then they sniffed reverently.

It was Tommy, too, who discovered the tree-tops of the Den, and Elspeth
seeing him gazing in a transport out at the window cried, "What is it,
Tommy? Quick!"

"Promise no to scream," he replied, warningly. "Well, then, Elspeth
Sandys, that's where the Den is!"

Elspeth blinked with awe, and anon said, wistfully, "Tommy, do you see
that there? That's where the Den is!"

"It were me what told you," cried Tommy, jealously.

"But let me tell you, Tommy!"

"Well, then, you can tell me."

"That there is the Den, Tommy!"

"Dagont!"

Oh, that to-morrow were here! Oh, that Shovel could see these two
to-morrow!

Here is another splendid game, T. Sandys, inventor. The girl goes into
the bed, the boy shuts the door on her, and imitates the sound of a
train in motion. He opens the door and cries, "Tickets, please." The
girl says, "What is the name of this place?" The boy replies, "It's
Thrums!" There is more to follow, but the only two who have played the
game always roared so joyously at this point that they could get no
farther.

"Oh, to-morrow, come quick, quick!"

"Oh, poor Shovel!"

To-morrow came, and with it two eager little figures rose and gulped
their porridge, and set off to see Thrums. They were dressed in the
black clothes Aaron Latta had bought for them in London, and they had
agreed just to walk, but when they reached the door and saw the
tree-tops of the Den they--they ran. Would you not like to hold them
back? It is a child's tragedy.

They went first into the Den, and the rocks were dripping wet, all the
trees, save the firs, were bare, and the mud round a tiny spring pulled
off one of Elspeth's boots.

"Tommy," she cried, quaking, "that narsty puddle can't not be the Cuttle
Well, can it?"

"No, it ain't," said Tommy, quickly, but he feared it was.

"It's c-c-colder here than London," Elspeth said, shivering, and Tommy
was shivering too, but he answered, "I'm--I'm--I'm warm."

The Den was strangely small, and soon they were on a shabby brae where
women in short gowns came to their doors and men in night-caps sat down
on the shafts of their barrows to look