. 'She wants me to write to
her,' he began presently. 'Says she doesn't mind the spelling, if I'll
only write. Fancy her saying that!'

'O, shut up, will you?' said Edward savagely; and once more we were
silent, with only our thoughts for sorry company.

'Let's go off to the copse,' I suggested timidly, feeling that something
had to be done to relieve the tension, 'and cut more new bows and
arrows.'

'She gave me a knife my last birthday,' said Edward moodily, never
budging. 'It wasn't much of a knife--but I wish I hadn't lost it!'

'When my legs used to ache,' I said, 'she sat up half the night, rubbing
stuff on them. I forgot all about that till this morning.'

'There's the fly!' cried Harold suddenly. 'I can hear it scrunching on
the gravel.'

Then for the first time we turned and stared each other in the face.

* * * * *

The fly and its contents had finally disappeared through the gate, the
rumble of its wheels had died away. Yet no flag floated defiantly in the
sun, no cannons proclaimed the passing of a dynasty. From out the
frosted cake of our existence Fate had cut an irreplaceable segment:
turn which way we would, the void was present. We sneaked off in
different directions, mutually undesirous of company; and it seemed
borne in upon me that I ought to go and dig my garden right over, from
end to end. It didn't actually want digging; on the other hand no amount
of digging could affect it, for good or for evil; so I worked steadily,
strenuously, under the hot sun, stifling thought in action. At the end
of an hour or so, I was joined by Edward.

'I've been chopping up wood,' he explained, in a guilty sort of way,
though nobody had called on him to account for his doings.

'What for?' I inquired stupidly. 'There's piles and piles of it chopped
up already.'

'I know,' said Edward, 'but there's no harm in having a bit over. You
never can tell what may happen. But what have you been doing all this
digging for?'

'You said it was going to rain,' I explained hastily. 'So I thought I'd
get the digging done before it came. Good gardeners always tell you
that's the right thing to do.'

'It did look like rain at one time,' Edward admitted; 'but it's passed
off now. Very queer weather we're having. I suppose that's why I've felt
so funny all day.'

'Yes, I suppose it's the weather,' I replied. '_I've_ been feeling funny
too.'

The weather had nothing to do with it, as we w