e; "I
always go about alone!"

"Well, I wanted to come, anyway," said Larry, with a placating grin.
"I say, that _is_ an awful nice dog!"

"You never call foxhounds '_dogs_'!" said Christian, still with
hauteur; "Larry, you _are_ an owl!"

But she enjoyed the consciousness of knowing more than he did; she
even forgave him his superfluousness. She thought it was rather decent
of him to have come, and she let him lead Amazon for a part of the
way, only reserving to herself the entry into the presence of
Cottingham, bringing her sheaf with her.

CHAPTER VI

Are childhood and youth indeed Vanity? When Christian looks back upon
her childhood at Mount Music, it seems to her that the World, and
Life, and Time, could hardly have bettered it for her, however they
might have put their heads together over the job.

All her memories are steeped in sunlight. It was all fun and fights,
and strawberries and dogs, and donkey-riding, and hot evenings on the
big river, with the hum of flies in her ears, and Larry, hailing her
from the farther bank of the Ownashee, across the stepping-stones. And
whenever she thought about the schoolroom, it was always warm and
rather jolly, especially in the Christmas holidays. They used to have
drawing competitions, of which Larry was, of course, the promoter, in
the old schoolroom, during the long winter evenings. Larry always had
a pencil in his hand, and was renowned as an artist of horses and
hounds, and Finn's wolf-dog, Bran, besides wielding a biting pen as a
caricaturist. Christian could only compete in architectural designs
that demanded neatness and exactness, but Georgy, the elder twin, had
some skill in marine subjects, and, since he was going to the
"Britannia," arrogated to himself the position of being an authority
on shipping; so much so, indeed, that general satisfaction was felt
when he was, one evening, worsted by Christian. The subject selected
for competition was "A Haunted Ship."

"Where shall I put the ghost?" Georgy debated, chewing the end of his
pencil, with his head on one side.

"In the shrouds, of course!" said Christian.

"Funny dog!" sneered Georgy, who considered that his artistic efforts
were no fit subject for jesting. "You'd better come and shove in one
of your Midianites for me!"

Then Christian, with the disconcerting swiftness of action, mental and
physical, that was peculiarly hers, snatched, in a flash, the mug of
painted-water from Larry's el