t
only drew Mr. Clinton's especial attention.

"You'll catch it from your grandmamma for making such a mess of your
clothes, won't you?" he asked.

"I _beg_ your pardon?" said Alice, with so perfect an air of not
having heard him that he was about to repeat the question, when she
left the nursery with the exact exit which she had made as a Discreet
Princess repelling unwelcome advances in last year's play.

I was afraid of an outburst from Philip, and said in hasty civility,
"This is a cave we are making."

"They'd a splendid cave at Covent Garden last Christmas," said Mr.
Clinton. "It covered half the stage. An enormously tall man dressed in
cloth of silver stood in the entrance, and waved a spear ten or twelve
feet long over his head. A fairy was let down above that, so you may
be sure the cave was pretty big."

"Oh, here's the dragon," said Philip, who had been rummaging in the
property box. "He's got a fiery tail."

"They were quite the go in pantomimes a few years ago," said Mr.
Clinton, yawning. "My uncle had two or three--bigger than that, of
course."

Philip saw that his friend was not interested in amateur
property-making, and changed the subject.

"What have you been doing this morning?" said he.

"I drove here with my father, who had got to pass your gates. I say,
there's splendid shooting on the marsh now. I want you to come out
with me, and we'll pot a wild duck or two."

"I've no gun," said Philip, and to soften the statement added,
"there's no one here to go out with."

"I'll go out with you. And I say, we could just catch the train back
to the town, and if you'll come and lunch with us, we'll go out a bit
this afternoon and look round. But you must get a gun."

"I should like some fresh air," said Philip, "and as you've come over
for me--"

I knew the appealing tone in his voice was for my ears, for my face
had fallen.

"Could I be going on with it?" I asked, nodding towards the forest
scene.

"Oh dear no! I'll go at it again to-night. It ought all to be painted
by candlelight by rights. I'm not going to desert my post," he added.

"I hope not," said I as good-humouredly as I could; but dismay was in
my heart.

CHAPTER VII.

A QUARREL--BOBBY IS WILLING--EXIT PHILIP.

Philip came back by an evening train, and when he had had something to
eat he came up to the nursery to go on with the scene. We had got
everything ready for him, and he worked for about half-an-hour. But h