for breath. Grime and perspiration streaked their
countenances. Duane Mallett wore a humorously tinted eye and a
prehensile upper lip; Scott's nose had again yielded to the coy
persuasion of a left-handed jab and the proud blood of the Seagraves
once more offended high heaven on that April day.

Geraldine, one arm imprisoning Naida's waist, walked coolly in between
them:

"Don't let's fight any more. The thing to do is to get Mrs. Bramton to
give you enough for four to eat and bring it back here. Scott, please
shake hands with Duane."

"I wasn't licked," muttered Scott.

"Neither was I," said Duane.

"Nobody was licked by anybody," announced Geraldine. "Do get something
to eat, Scott; Naida and I are starving!"

After some hesitation the boys touched gloves respectfully, and Scott
shook off his mitts, and started for the kitchen.

And there, to his horror and surprise, he was confronted by Mrs. Severn,
black hat, crape veil, and gloves still on, evidently that instant
arrived from those occult and, as the children supposed, distant bournes
of Staten Island, where the supreme mystery of all had been at work.

"Oh, Scott!" she exclaimed tremulously, "what on earth has happened?
What is all this that Mrs. Farren and Howker have been telling me?"

The boy stood petrified. Then there surged over him the memory of his
brief happiness in these new companions--a happiness now to be snatched
away ere scarcely tasted. Into the child's dirty, disfigured face came a
hunted expression; he looked about for an avenue of escape, and
Kathleen Severn caught him at the same instant and drew him to her.

"What is it, Scott? Tell me, darling!"

"Nothing.... Yes, there is something. I opened the front door and let a
strange boy and girl in to play with us, and I've just been fighting
with him, and we were having such good times--I--" his voice broke--"I
can't bear to have them go--so soon----"

Kathleen looked at him for a moment, speechless with consternation.
Then:

"Where are they, Scott?"

"In the--the hedge."

"Out _there_?"

"Yes."

"_Who_ are they?"

"Their names are Duane Mallett and Naida Mallett. We got them to run
away from their nurse. Duane's such a bully fellow." A sob choked him.

"Come with me at once," said Kathleen.

Behind the rhododendrons smiling peace was extending its pinions; Duane
had produced a pocketful of jack-stones, and the three children were now
seated on the grass, Naida manipulatin