ut bore any precise relation to what
they had been hearing within. Perhaps, however, the
day was too cold and stormy for standing upon the
exactitudes of history.

I did not remain all the time a spectator of the
fray. The stated duel of twenty balls was over
before I again reached the window. The combatants
had entered upon the go-as-you-please stage.
Indeed, I could gather so much even at my desk, by
the confusion of yells and slogans emitted by the
contending parties.

Presently the cry of "It's not fair!" brought me to
the window.

Hugh John and Maid Margaret had evidently gained a
certain preliminary success. For they had been able
to reach a position from which (with long poles
used at other times for the protection of the
strawberry beds) they were enabled, under shelter
themselves, to shake the branches of the big tree
which overshadowed the swing and the position of
the enemy. Every twig and branch was, of course,
laden with snow, and masses fell in rapid
succession upon the heads of the defenders. This
was annoying at first, but at a word from Sir
Toady, Sweetheart and he seized their intrenching
tools, calling out: "Thank you--thank you! It's
helping us so much! We've been wanting that badly!
All our snow was gone, and we had to make balls off
the ramparts. But now it's all right. Thank
you--thank you!"

The truth of this grew so evident that the baffled
assailants retired to consult. Nothing better than
a frontal attack, well sustained and driven home to
the hilt, occurred to Hugh John; and, indeed, after
all, that was the best thing that could happen on
such a day. A yell, a charge, a quick batter of
snowballs, and then a rush straight up the
bank--Maid Margaret, lithe as a deer-hound,
leading, her skirts kilted "as like a boy" as on
the spur of the moment she could achieve with a
piece of twine. Right on Sweetheart she rushed,
who,--as in some sort her senior and legal
protector,--of course, could not be very rough with
her, nor yet use the methods customary and licensed
between embattled brothers.

But while the Maid thus held Sweetheart in play,
Hugh John developed his stratagem. Leaning over the
ramparts he seized Sir Toady by the collar, and
then, throwing himself backward down the slope,
conf