oncealed his annoyance. Elise was quick to detect
the emotion, though innocence prevented her assigning it its true
source. There was a questioning pain in the large, clear eyes lifted to
Firmstone's.

The look of annoyance on Firmstone's face melted. He spoke even more
pleasantly than he felt.

"Well, what I can do for you this time?"

"You can go away from my place and stay away!" Elise flashed out.

Firmstone's smile broadened.

"I didn't know I was a trespasser."

"Well, you are! I had this place before you came, and I'm likely to have
it after you are gone!" The eyes were snapping.

"You play Cassandra well." Firmstone was purposely tantalising. He was
forgetting the cranes, nor was he displeased that the stork had other
weapons than innocence.

Elise's manner changed.

"Who is Cassandra?"

The eager, hungry look of the changing eyes smote Firmstone. The
bantering smile disappeared. It occurred to him that Elise might be
outdoing her prototype.

"She was a very beautiful lady who prophesied disagreeable things that
no one believed."

Elise ignored the emphasis which Firmstone unconsciously placed on
_beautiful_. She grew thoughtful, endeavouring to grasp his analogy.

"I think," she said, slowly, "I'm no Cassandra." She looked sharply at
Firmstone. "Daddy says you're going; Mo-reeson says you're going, and
they put their chips on the right number pretty often."

Firmstone laughed lightly.

"Oh, well, it isn't for daddy and Morrison to say whether I'm to go or
not."

"Who's this Mr. Hartwell?" Elise asked, abruptly.

"He's the man who can say."

"Then you are up against it!" Elise spoke with decision. There was a
suggestion of regret in her eyes.

"These things be with the gods." Firmstone was half-conscious of a lack
of dignity in seeming to be interested in personal matters, not intended
for his immediate knowledge. Several times he had decided to end the
episode, but the mobile face and speaking eyes, the half-childish
innocence and unconscious grace restrained him.

"I don't believe it." Elise looked gravely judicial.

"Why not?"

"Because God knows what he's about. Mr. Hartwell doesn't; he is only
awfully sure he does."

Firmstone chuckled softly over the unerring estimate which Elise had
made. He began gathering up the reins, preparatory to resuming his way.
Elise paid no attention to his motions.

"Don't you want to see my garden?" she asked.

"Is that an invitation?"

"Ye