e in Martha's kitchen, Boy."

"Oh, there are _ways of telling_," said the Boy, airily; and pinched an
explosive bun.

After tea they took their rackets and strolled down the lawn, pausing a
moment while she chose him a buttonhole. The tie was orange on this
second day, and she gathered the opening bud of a William Allen
Richardson rose. She smiled into its golden heart as she pinned it in
his white flannel coat. Somehow it brought a flash of remembrance of
the golden heart of Little Boy Blue, who could not bear that any one
should be past praying for, or that even a scarecrow should seem lonely.

They crossed the lane and entered the paddock; tightened the net on the
tennis-court; chose out half a dozen brand-new balls, and settled down
to fast and furious singles.

Miss Charteris played as well as she had ever played in her life; but
the Boy was off his service, and she beat him six to four. Next time,
he pulled off 'games all,' but lost the set; then was beaten, three to
six.

Miss Charteris was glowing with the exercise, and the consciousness of
being in great form.

"Boy dear!" she called, as she played the winning stroke of the third
set, "I'm afraid you're lazy to-day!"

The Boy walked up to the net, and looked at her through his racket.

"I'm not lazy," he said; "but I'm on the wrong side of Jordan. This
sort of thing is waste of time. I want to go over, and start marching."

"Don't be absurd, Boy. I prefer _this_ side Jordan, thank you; and you
shall stay here until you beat me."

The Boy won the next set.

* * * * *

It was deliciously cool and quiet under the mulberry-tree.

The Boy was quite subdued--for him. He seemed inclined to do his
marching in silence, on this second day.

Miss Charteris felt her mental balance restored. She held the reins
to-day, and began considering how to deal wisely with the Boy. So much
depended upon how she managed him.

At length she said: "Boy, when you were at Trinity, I often used to see
you. I knew you were my Little Boy Blue of all those years ago. I
used to feel inclined to send for you, talk to you for your good, and
urge you to set to, and do great things; but I remembered the stone,
and the bucket; and I did not want to let myself in for a third
snubbing."

The Boy smiled. "Did you think me a lazy beggar?" he asked. "I wasn't
really, you know. I did quite a good deal of all kinds of things. But
I didn't want