ner behind the
door, and down sat Margot on the floor, school-girl fashion, and began
to thread the laces in and out, and tie them securely into place. Then
the deerstalker cap was pinned on top of the chestnut locks, and the
straps of the grey cape crossed over the white flannel blouse. Now she
was ready, and the sunshine was already calling to her from without,
dancing across the floor, and bringing a delicious warmth into the
atmosphere.

Margot threw open the door and was about to descend the narrow
staircase, when she stopped short, arrested by an unexpected sound.
Some one was singing softly in a room near at hand, repeating the
refrain of the ballad which she had taken last on her list. The deep
bass tones lingered softly on the words--

"And the lad who marries me,
Must carry me hame to my North Coun-tree!"

George Elgood was echoing her song in the seclusion of his own room! He
had been indoors all the time, then, listening to her while she sang!
Margot's cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, yet in the repeated strain
there was a suggestion of appreciation, of lingering enjoyment which did
away with the idea of adverse criticism.

"Oh, the Oak and the Ash,"--the strain seemed to swell in volume,
growing ever nearer and nearer. "And the lad who marries me--"

The door flew open, and they stood facing one another, each framed as in
a picture in the lintel of the doorways, divided only by a few yards of
boarded passage. The strain came to an abrupt conclusion, frozen upon
his lips by the shock of surprise and embarrassment. For the third time
in their short acquaintance Margot looked straight into his eyes; for
the third time recognised in their depths something that in mysterious
fashion seemed to respond to a want in her own nature; for the third
time saw the lids drop, heard an unintelligible murmur of apology, and
watched a hasty retreat.

For a moment Margot stood motionless, an expression of wounded pride
clouding the young rounded face, then very slowly descended the
staircase, traversed the length of the "lobby," and stood outside the
door, looking anxiously to right and left.

There he was, a strong, well-built figure in knickerbockers and Norfolk
coat striding rapidly up the hill path to the right,--trying, no doubt,
to put as much distance as possible between himself and the
objectionable girl who seemed ever to be appearing when she was not
wanted. For a long minute Margot stood gaz