id Willie; "Mr. Charles--young Mr.
Merceron--told me so when he was talking to me on the platform."

"You know young Mr. Merceron?" asked Agatha.

"Why, they was boys together," interrupted the old farmer, who made
little of the refinements of speech. In his youth no one, from the lord
to the laborer, spoke grammar in the country. "Used to larn to swim
together in the Pool, didn't you, Willie?"

"I must have a dip there to-morrow," cried Willie; and Agatha wondered
what time he would choose. "And I'll take you there, Nettie. Ever been
yet?"

"No. They--they say it's haunted, don't they, Willie?"

"That's nonsense," said Willie. London makes a man sceptical. The old
farmer shook his head and grunted doubtfully. His mother had seen poor
Agatha Merceron; this was before the farmer was born--a little while
before--and the shock had come nigh to being most serious to him. The
whole countryside knew it.

"Why do you call it nonsense, Mr. Prime?" asked Agatha.

"Oh, I don't know, Miss---"

"Miss Brown, Willie," said Nettie.

"Miss Brown. Anyway, we needn't go the time the ghost comes."

"I should certainly avoid that," laughed Agatha.

"We'll go in the morning, Nettie, and I'll have my swim in the evening."

Agatha frowned. It would be particularly inconvenient if Willie Prime
took his swim in the evening.

"Oh, don't, Willie," cried Nettie. "She--she might do you some harm."

Willie was hard to persuade. He was not above liking to appear a
daredevil; and the discussion was still raging when they reached the
farm. The two girls went upstairs to the little rooms which they
occupied. Agatha turned into hers, and Nettie Wallace followed her.

"Your Willie is very nice," said Agatha, sitting on her bed.

Nettie smiled with pleasure.

"And now that you've other company I shall go."

"You're going, Miss?"

"Not Miss."

Nettie laughed.

"I forget sometimes," she said.

"Well, you must remember just over tomorrow. I shall go next day. I
must meet my grandfather in London."

Nettie offered no opposition. On the contrary, she appeared rather
relieved.

"Nettie, did you like Mr. Sutton's looks?" asked Agatha after a pause.

"He's too black and blue for my taste," answered Nettie.

Willie Prime was red and yellow.

"Blue? Oh: you mean his cheeks?"

"Yes. But he's a handsome gentleman all the same; and you should have
seen his luggage! Such a dressing-bag--cost fifty pounds, I daresay."

"Oh, dear, me,