Through the leaves there came the faint far tinkle of the
tea-bell.

She said: "We must get down."

It was much too jolly to go in, really. But if she wanted her tea--girls
always wanted tea! And, twisting the cord carefully round the branch, he
began to superintend her descent. About to follow, he heard her cry:

"Oh, Mark! I'm stuck--I'm stuck! I can't reach it with my foot! I'm
swinging!" And he saw that she WAS swinging by her hands and the cord.

"Let go; drop on to the branch below--the cord'll hold you straight till
you grab the trunk."

Her voice mounted piteously:

"I can't--I really can't--I should slip!"

He tied the cord, and slithered hastily to the branch below her; then,
bracing himself against the trunk, he clutched her round the waist and
knees; but the taut cord held her up, and she would not come to anchor.
He could not hold her and untie the cord, which was fast round her
waist. If he let her go with one hand, and got out his knife, he would
never be able to cut and hold her at the same time. For a moment he
thought he had better climb up again and slack off the cord, but he
could see by her face that she was getting frightened; he could feel it
by the quivering of her body.

"If I heave you up," he said, "can you get hold again above?" And,
without waiting for an answer, he heaved. She caught hold frantically.

"Hold on just for a second."

She did not answer, but he saw that her face had gone very white. He
snatched out his knife and cut the cord. She clung just for that moment,
then came loose into his arms, and he hauled her to him against the
trunk. Safe there, she buried her face on his shoulder. He began to
murmur to her and smooth her softly, with quite a feeling of its being
his business to smooth her like this, to protect her. He knew she was
crying, but she let no sound escape, and he was very careful not to show
that he knew, for fear she should feel ashamed. He wondered if he ought
to kiss her. At last he did, on the top of her head, very gently. Then
she put up her face and said she was a beast. And he kissed her again on
an eyebrow.

After that she seemed all right, and very gingerly they descended to the
ground, where shadows were beginning to lengthen over the fern and the
sun to slant into their eyes.

XIII

The night after the wedding the boy stood at the window of his pleasant
attic bedroom, with one wall sloping, and a faint smell of mice. He was
tired and e