ly free from
ships, they gave themselves up to the delights of the sunshine and
summer air. Now they dipped into little coves, among dainty shells and
glistening sand-breadths, where they sat down cross-legged and played at
"jecks" or "jacks"--one pebble in the air and lift five. Five in the air
and lift one--with all sorts of intricate devices and variations, such
as catching the tossed stones on the back of the hand, collecting them
with a sudden side swoop, and so forth till Patsy was tired. Her nimble
fingers left Stair's stiffer members far behind.

But it was different when a white stone was poised on the top of a rock,
for Stair could send it rolling down nine times out of ten before Patsy
had never so much as touched the target. Again on sheltered stretches
Stair could send a smooth, flat stone skipping from one side to the
other of the still bay, which Patsy declared was no sort of sport
because hers, though every bit as well thrown as Stair's, invariably
plumped to the bottom with a little farewell "cloop" as soon as they
encountered the water. "You get all the best stones!" Patsy cried at
last, vexed at her lack of success. Whereupon Stair handed over his
ammunition to her, which "clooped" and sank as before.

"Then you _do_ something to them--you must!" said Patsy, and with this
luminous reasoning she turned and set off back to the old Rathan tower
to get a book. Thereafter they read. That is, Patsy spun white cobwebs
with her needle and Stair read to her--Shakespeare it was, and the play
"The Tempest."

She did not know--she could never have guessed that Stair could read
like that. She often stopped him to ask the meaning of a passage, and
never did she ask in vain. Sometimes, indeed, she could have two or
three interpretations to choose from, for in the Bothy Stair had gone
over the play with Theobald's notes, comparing them with Pope's and
Johnson's.

Patsy's heart was in a strange topsy-turvy state all that day. Sometimes
she would forget herself and "cosy up" against Stair as she used to
snuggle close to her Uncle Julian. Then something in the strong, clear
voice, the square unyieldingness of shoulders, the body massive and
forceful, caused her to draw hastily away. She thought that Stair had
not noticed, but his whole heart and body became tremulous to the brief
caress, and when she recalled her favour, it was like the sun hiding his
face and the air growing chilled as before snow.

Still Stair m