ou going to do?'

'Well,' I said, 'I don't quite know till I get there.'

Jacintha's face grew very solemn.

'I wish I could tell Uncle,' she said. 'You know he is most awfully
nice, only I am afraid he might put you in the motor-car and drive after
the cab--we could catch it easily if we tried.'

'Yes, of course,' I answered.

'Uncle will be wondering why I am so long,' she continued. 'I expect we
shall go straight back now the motor-car has gone wrong.'

'Where to?' I inquired, from sheer curiosity to learn as much about her
as possible.

'Uncle lives at Colebrook Park,' she answered.

'Where is that?'

'About a mile this side of Hazleton,' she said, on the point of going
away. 'I do hope those people won't catch you,' she continued, 'and that
you will reach London all right, though it doesn't seem much use if you
haven't got any people. I never knew any one who had run away before,'
she added, regarding me with evident interest, and with that to my great
regret Jacintha walked away.

'Thank you ever so much,' I cried, and then in order to see the last of
her, I came round into the road, standing on the path watching until a
bend took her out of sight. Even then I did not at once set out on my
journey, but, having taken the precaution to bring some bread and cheese
in my pocket, I sat down to eat it, near the spot where Jacintha had
recently stood, when I saw something shining on the path.

Taking it in my hand, I found that it was a heart-shaped locket, which
doubtless belonged to Jacintha. I imagined that she had worn it
suspended from a chain round her neck, that it had caught in one of the
twigs of the hedge and been broken off when she started back in
astonishment on first seeing me lying amidst the corn.

Ignoring any possible risk from her uncle, I now thought only of
returning the locket, and accordingly set forth at a run, nor stopped
until I reached the farrier's shop, opposite the footpath to Barton.
Then I saw, to my extreme disappointment, no sign of a motor-car before
the door.

(_Continued on page 94._)

A STORY OF STANLEY.

Sir H. M. Stanley, the famous African explorer, once had a strange and
unpleasant experience, from which he was saved by his presence of mind
and readiness of resource. He was travelling in Africa, and had to stay
some time at a village. The people here were extremely ignorant and
superstitious and quite unused to the ways of white men. After a time
some