off the side of a house. At least, I suppose that is what
they call it. But at that time I had had no experience of swoons. For
Elsie never went on like that. At all events, Harriet Caw clutched me
about the neck, her fingers working as if they would claw off my
collar, and she laughing and crying both at once. Funny it was, but
though it made a fellow squirm--not altogether so horrid as you might
think. But I did not know what to do. I tried hard to think whether
it was the palms of her hands or the backs of her ears that you ought
to rub, or whether I should lay her down or stand her up against a
tree. I knew there was something. Then I got in a funk lest, after
all, it should be the soles of her feet.

But Mad Jeremy had not altogether gone away. He had been watching, and
now popped his head and shiny ringlets round a tree trunk, which
brought me to myself.

"Ah--ha!" he cried, "I'll tell the pretty one about these goings on!"

And, quick as a flash, that brought Harriet Caw to herself, also. It
did better than splashing water or rubbing hands. The moment before
she had been all rigid like a lump of wood in my arms. But as soon as
the words were out of Mad Jeremy's mouth, she was standing before me,
her eyes flashing lightning, and her elbows drawn a little in to her
sides.

Mad? Well, rather. She was hopping, just.

"So _I'm_ not the pretty one," she said--whispered it, rather, with a
husky sound, like frying bacon in her voice. "Oh, I see--that's why my
eyes are like brown paint--varnished! Well, who's the pretty one?
Answer me that!"

"I think he must mean Elsie!" I said, telling the truth just as briefly
as I could.

"Elsie--oh, indeed! Elsie is the pretty one, is she, Master Joe?"

"Yes," I said, "she is!"

I was going on to tell her how much she would like Elsie, and how Elsie
would love her, when suddenly Harriet Caw turned and marched off. I
was going to follow her--indeed, I had to. For I wasn't going to be
left in that gloomy glade with only the great tits and Mad Jeremy
hiding among the trees.

But Harriet Caw turned round, and called out, "Go to Elsie, I don't
want you! I dare you to speak to me! I will kill you, if you touch
me!"

I told Harriet quite reasonably that I would not touch her for mints of
money, and that all I wanted was just to find Mr. Ablethorpe, and pick
up the parcel I had left at her grandfather's before going home.

It must have looked funny enoug