him; but then, the whole scene
was fit for the variety stage. Poor Margaret felt a moment of despair.
What should she do?

"Mr. Merryweather," she said, aloud, "Miss Montfort has been much
startled. Just before you came, we heard a noise; rather a strange
noise, which we could not account for. I think her nerves are somewhat
shaken. She will be better in a moment. And--and I was just going to the
summer-house, to call the children. Would you come with me, I wonder?"

Miss Sophronia clamoured that she could not be left alone, but for once
Margaret was deaf to her appeals. She was too angry; her guest--that
is, her uncle's guest--to be set upon and shaken, as if he were a
naughty child caught stealing apples,--it was too shameful! He would
think they were all out of their senses.

"Oh, I am so sorry! So sorry!" she found herself saying aloud. "Mr.
Merryweather, I am so mortified, so ashamed! What can I say to you?"

"Say!" said Gerald, his stiffness gone in an instant. "Don't say
anything, Miss Montfort. I--I don't mean that; I mean, there's nothing
_to_ say, don't you know? Why, it wasn't your fault! Who ever thought of
its being your fault?"

"I ought to have recognised you sooner!" said Margaret. "It was pretty
dark, and we had really been startled, and my cousin is very nervous. If
you would _please_ overlook it this time I should be so grateful!"

"Oh, I _say_!" cried the young man. "Miss Montfort, if you go on in this
way, I shall go back and ask the old--and ask the lady to choke me some
more. I--I _like_ being choked! I like anything; only don't go on so!
Why, it isn't any matter in the world. Perhaps it relieved her feelings
a bit; and it didn't do me any harm." He felt of his necktie, and
settled his collar as well as he could, thankful for the friendly
darkness. "Indeed, I am all right!" he assured her, earnestly. "Trivets
aren't a circumstance to me, as far as rightness is concerned. Now if
you'll forget all about it, Miss Montfort, please, I shall be as happy
as the bounding roe,--or the circumflittergating cockchafer!" he added,
as a large June-bug buzzed past him.

"You are very good!" murmured Margaret. "I am sure--but here is the
summer-house. Children, are you here? Basil! Susan D.!"

No answer came. The frogs chirped peacefully, the brook at the foot of
the garden sent up its soft, bubbling murmur; there was no other sound.
It was very dark, for the trees were thick overhead. The fireflies
flit