iggled him into an
ancient sack, and tied him up in the harmonious company of a couple of
brickbats. Then we committed the body to the deep. The burial service
was short, but hearty. "One--two--three, and away!" sung out in unison,
was the special form for the occasion, accompanied by Beauty's farewell
blessing as we "awayed" him into the silent depths of the mill-dam.
There was a splash, a shrill cry from a frightened moorhen, a short
jubilate from Jim, to which I piously added "amen," and all was over.
Jim ran home with half-a-sovereign in his pocket, while I walked back to
dress for dinner. On the stairs I met my aunt, already in evening array,
and looking hungry. I knew the sign, and stealthily tried to
vanish, vainly.

[Illustration: IN THE DESERTED OLD MILL.]

"Late again, Samuel!" she remarked, with a freezing spectacle-gleam that
fixed me to the stair-carpet--my right foot two steps above the left.
"You have just come in, I suppose. Have you seen Beauty?"

[Illustration: "LATE AGAIN, SAMUEL!"]

Horror! Could she suspect anything? I felt my face growing the colour of
my hair, and my tongue frozen solid.

"Can't you answer?" she went on wrathfully. "And can't you stand up
straight?"

I pulled my legs together and commenced to stammer.

"I--I saw Beauty out--outside, aunt, in the garden," I managed to mutter.

"Which way was he going?"

"Why, I think he was running towards the house, aunt."

[Illustration: THIRTY MILES AN HOUR.]

And then the remembrance of how he _was_ running--thirty miles an hour,
with tail on end and ears flat to his head, with Jim and my long-legged
self racing in rear--made me choke with laughter I was forced to
swallow. But my aunt's eyes were on me, and her gold-rimmed barnacles
blazed through me, so I suffocated in silence.

"Don't stand making faces like an idiot. Go and dress, and be quick,"
snapped my loving relative, as she marched away downstairs and I flew to
the region above.

My bedroom door was partly open, and I dashed in hastily, pulling off my
things as I went.

[Illustration: DRESSING FOR DINNER.]

My evening clothes were laid out ready on the bed, and--what was that on
my shirt?--a black mass of--something moving!--some animal! Why, heavens
and earth, it was the ghost of--that beast Beauty! It was Beauty
himself! I ran for the poker; Beauty rushed out of the door. Confound
that rotten old sack!

I was late for dinner, and found Beauty seated in my chair,