rply as the bees' stings,
and he walked about the garden trying to make up his mind as to whether
he should go and confess to Dan'l that he stirred the bees up with a
long stick.

But as soon as he felt that he would do this, something struck him that
Dan'l would be sure to think he had done it all out of mischief, and he
knew that he could not tell him.

"Nobody will know," he said to himself; "and I won't tell. I didn't
mean to do any harm."

"Dexter! Dexter!"

He looked in the direction from whence the sounds came, and could see
Helen waving her handkerchief, as a signal for him to come in.

"Time to go," he said to himself as he set off to her. "Nobody will
know, so I shan't tell him."

And then he turned cold.

Only a few moments before he had left Dan'l growling in his den, and now
here he was down the garden, stooping and picking up something.

For a few moments Dexter could not see what the something was, for the
trees between them hindered the view, but directly after he made out
that Dan'l had picked up a long stick, which had been thrown among the
little apple-trees, and was carefully examining it.

The colour came into Dexter's cheeks as he wondered whether Dan'l would
know where that stick came from.

The colour would have been deeper still had he known that Dan'l had a
splendid memory, and knew exactly where every stick or plant should be.
In fact, Dan'l recognised that stick as having been taken from the end
of the scarlet-runner row.

"A young sperrit o' mischief! that's what he is," muttered the old man,
giving a writhe as he felt the stinging of the bees. "Now what's he
been up to with that there stick? making a fishing-rod of it, I s'pose,
and tearing my rows o' beans to pieces. I tell him what it is--"

Dan'l stopped short, and stared at the end of the stick--the thin end,
where there was something peculiar, betraying what had been done with
it.

It was a sight which made him tighten his lips up into a thin red line,
and screw up his eyes till they could be hardly seen, for upon the end
of that stick were the mortal remains of two crushed bees.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

DEXTER SPENDS A PLEASANT AFTERNOON.

Dexter went up to where Helen was waiting for him, and found her
dressed. "Going out!" he said.

"Yes; I thought I would walk up to Sir James's with you," she said; and
she cast a critical eye over him, and smiled upon seeing that he only
needed a touch with a brush to ma