everse of popular. Boys wouldn't stand it, and I don't
suppose girls will either."

"It didn't strike me to say anything," sobbed Aldred. "Oh, Keith, don't
look at me like that! Shall I run after them and tell them? I will, if
you want. I'll go at once, if you'll only be friends with me again."

"No, they're inside the cottage, condoling with Mrs. Barker over her
rheumatism. You'd only make yourself ridiculous if you followed them,
and came out with a dramatic confession in the middle of the kitchen. I
hate scenes. Do turn off the water-works, there's a good girl! Be a
little straighter in future if you want to keep chums with me, though.
Here, I'll help you to pack up your traps, and we'll go home to tea.
Your sketch is still wet; if you carry that I'll bring on the rest."

Very crestfallen and miserable, Aldred took up her unfortunate painting,
and began to walk away down the path towards the wood, leaving her
brother to follow. In her brown holland dress and red poppy hat she made
such a sweet picture against the yellow of the corn stooks that, in
spite of his disapproval, Keith could not help looking after her with a
certain amount of admiration. No one who met Aldred Laurence could have
failed to be struck by her personality. She was very neatly and trimly
made, and had a way of holding herself erect and looking alert that gave
her a distinguished appearance, and seemed to raise her above the level
of the average girl. Her lovely dark eyes, long, curling brown hair, and
warm, rich colouring had a gipsy effect that was particularly
picturesque. Her eyes were so bright and soft and expressive, her cheeks
had two such bewitching dimples, and she smiled so readily and winningly
in response to the smallest advance, that she generally made friends
easily, and had won notice from strangers since the days of her
babyhood.

To sober, downright, matter-of-fact Keith his sister was often a sore
puzzle. Her eager, impetuous, excitable disposition, and many impulsive
acts, were as foreign to him as an unknown language.

"Why need you work yourself up so tremendously over every trifle? What's
the use of taking life so stormily?" he once remonstrated.

"I don't know," replied Aldred. "I seem to care so much more about
everything than you do. I can't help it; I suppose it was born in me."

"Then it's high time you got it out of you!" remarked Keith, whose ideal
was a state of unruffled calm on all occasions.

In spite of t