ne made the adventure possible, he reflected; he could not
have cut down a tree in the hearing of neighbours, and as to old
Elizabeth herself, he hoped she was deaf. Most old women were, he
reflected, except unfortunately his grandmother!

Soon he was entering the little garden and sniffing the scent of
blossom, which was very strong in the night air. He could see the dim
outline of the plum tree, and just as he wanted light, the moon came
out and shone upon its whiteness, giving a sort of spiritual beauty
to the flowering thing that was very exquisite.

"What price, Waller R. A. now?" thought Carnaby impishly. "The plum
tree in moonlight! eh? Wouldn't he give his eyes to see it! But he
won't! Not if I know it!" The boy was as blind to the tree's beauty as
his grandmother had been, but he had scientific ideas how to cut it
down, for he had watched the felling of many a tree.

First, standing on a lower branch, you lopped off all the side shoots
as high as you could reach. This made the trunk easy to deal with, and
its fall less heavy, and Carnaby set to work.

"She goes through them all as slick as butter!" he said to himself in
high satisfaction. The axe had assumed a personality to him and was
"she," not "it." "She makes no more noise than a pair of scissors
cutting flowers; not half so much!" he said proudly. Branch after
branch fell down and lay about the tree like the discarded garments of
a bathing nymph. The petals fell upon Carnaby's face, upon his hair
and shoulders; he was a white figure as he toiled. Frightened birds
and bats flew about, but he did not notice them. His only care was the
cottage itself and its inmate. If _she_ should awake! But the little
habitation, shrouded in thatch and deep in shadow, was dark and silent
as the grave.

"She must be sound asleep and deaf," thought the boy. "Yes, very
deaf." He paused. The first stage in his task was accomplished.
Shivering and naked, one absurd tuft of blossom and leaves at the
tip--the murdered tree now stood in the moonlight, imploring the _coup
de grace_ which should end its shame.

"Jolly well done," said the murderer complacently. He stretched his
arms, looked at the palms of his hands to see if they had blistered,
and addressed himself to the second part of his business. Thud! thud!
went the axe on the trunk of the tree, and the sweat broke out all
over Carnaby's skin, not with exertion but with nervous terror.

"If that doesn't wake the dead!