her. Joey looked approval; but the boys sniggered, and
kept it up till Georgy, having gained the platform, threatened them
with a "clout on the head".

On the return journey a dispute arose between the lovers: it related to
the shortest road home, waxed hot, and was rapidly taking on the
dimensions of a quarrel, when the piebald mare shied at a
traction-engine and tried to bolt. Joey gripped the reins, and passed
his free arm round Georgy's waist.

"Don't be frightened, darling."

Though the low chaise rocked from side to side and there seemed a
likelihood of it capsizing, the two boys squirmed with laughter, and
dealt out sundry nudges, kicks and pokes, all of which were received by
Laura, sitting between them. She herself turned red--with
embarrassment. At the same time she wondered why Joey should believe
George was afraid; there was no sign of it in Georgy's manner; she sat
stolid and unmoved. Besides she, Laura, was only a little girl, and
felt no fear.--She also asked herself why Joey should suddenly grow
concerned about Georgy, when, a moment before, they had been so rude to
each other.--These were interesting speculations, and, the chaise
having ceased to sway, Laura grew meditative.

In the evening Godmother had a visitor, and Laura sat in a low chair,
listening to the ladies' talk. It was dull work: for, much as she liked
to consider herself "almost grown up", she yet detested the
conversation of "real grown-ups" with a child's heartiness. She was
glad when nine o'clock struck and Marina, lighting a candle, told her
to go to bed.

The next day was Sunday. Between breakfast and church-time yawned two
long hours. Georgy went to a Bible-class; Marina was busy with orders
for the dinner.

It was a bookless house--like most Australian houses of its kind: in
Marina's bedroom alone stood a small bookcase containing school and
Sunday school prizes. Laura was very fond of reading, and as she
dressed that morning had cast longing looks at these volumes, had
evenly shyly fingered the glass doors. But they were locked. Breakfast
over, she approached Marina on the subject. The latter produced the
key, but only after some haggling, for her idea of books was to keep
the gilt on their covers untarnished.

"Well, at any rate it must be a Sunday book," she said ungraciously.

She drew out THE GIANT CITIES OF BASHAN AND SYRIA'S HOLY PLACES, and
with this Laura retired to the drawing-room, where Godmother was
already s