p in the August
sky just for the occasion. It was so richly luminous, and as Doris said,
so near you. The children had been playing forfeits, and in Gilead you
played games at parties until you were at least twenty. Piney Haddock was
giving out the forfeits, sitting blindfolded on a chair, while Jean held
them over her head, calling out with each one:

"Heavy, heavy hangs over your head,
What shall the owner do to redeem it?"

Whereupon Piney would have to respond interestedly,

"Fine or superfine?"

It happened that Kit's little turquoise forget-me-not ring was the
particular forfeit dangling over Piney's head, when Billie stuck his head
in at the open window with a couple of other boys, and Piney lifted her
chin at the sound of his voice.

"She must catch Billie Ellis, and bring him back to kneel at my feet, and
hand over his forfeit."

Billie had evaded this, escaping with Banty Herrick, and the big Peckham
boy, to show them his Belgian hares. Billie never had liked kissing games,
and one of the Judge's favorite stories was how he had tried to give
Billie a birthday party once, when he was seven years old. Most of the
guests were the Judge's friends, with a small scattering of youngsters,
and it appeared that just as the Judge had lined up some sweet-faced old
ladies to kiss Billie, Billie had been found missing. Later he was
located, clad only in overalls, leading the whole string of other children
to a ruined sawmill that stood on a winding stream below the house.

So to-night the spirit of adversity whirled him about from the driveway,
and he sped down the long lane with Kit in fast pursuit. Overhead the
mulberry trees met in a leafy arcade, and out of the hazel thicket a
whippoorwill called, flying low down the lane after the two darting forms,
as if it were trying to find out what the excitement was about at that
time of night. At the turn of the lane there were three apple trees, early
Shepherd Sweetings, and here Billie slipped down and lay breathing
heavily, his hands hunting for windfalls in the tall grass. Kit passed him
by, speeding the full length of the lane, and bringing up at the end of
the log-run, before the old mill.

"Billie Ellis, you come out of there," she called. "I've got my slippers
wet already chasing after you, and I'm not going to climb all over those
old timbers hunting for you."

Only the whippoorwill answered, calling now from a clump of elderberry
bushes close