m teening a fire!"

"Who gave you leave to bawl in my ear so rudely? Go back to your
reading, this instant." (A pause.) "Mary Jane, I do believe they'm
roastin' chestnuts."

"What a clever game!"

"Father said at dinner the tide was bringin' 'em in by bushels.
Quick! put on your worst bonnet an' clogs, an' run down to look.
I _must_ know. No, I'm not goin'--the idea! I wonder at your low
notions. You shall bring me word o' what's doin'--an' mind you're back
before dark."

Mary Jane fled precipitately, lest the order should be revoked.
Five minutes later, Ruby heard the small gate click again, and with a
sigh saw the girl's rotund figure waddling down the lane. Then she
picked up the book and strove to bury herself in the woes of Wilhelmina,
but still with frequent glances out of window. Twice the book dropped
off her lap; twice she picked it up and laboriously found the page
again. Then she gave it up, and descended to the back door, to see if
anyone were about who might give her news. But the town-place was
deserted by all save the ducks, the old white sow, and a melancholy crew
of cocks and hens huddled under the dripping eaves of the cow-house.
Returning to her room, she settled down on the window-seat, and watched
the blaze of the bonfire increase as the short day faded.

The grey became black. It was six o'clock, and neither her father nor
Mary Jane had returned. Seven o'clock struck from the tall clock in the
kitchen, and was echoed ten minutes after by the Dutch clock in the
parlour below. The sound whirred up through the planching twice as loud
as usual. It was shameful to be left alone like this, to be robbed,
murdered, goodness knew what. The bonfire began to die out, but every
now and then a circle of small black figures would join hands and dance
round it, scattering wildly after a moment or two. In a lull of the
wind she caught the faint sound of shouts and singing, and this
determined her.

She turned back from the window and groped for her tinder-box.
The glow, as she blew the spark upon the dry rag, lit up a very pretty
but tear-stained pair of cheeks; and when she touched off the brimstone
match, and, looking up, saw her face confronting her, blue and tragical,
from the dark-framed mirror, it reminded her of Lady Macbeth.
Hastily lighting the candle, she caught up a shawl and crept
down-stairs. Her clogs were in the hall; and four horn lanterns dangled
from a row of pegs above t