ted hither and thither, gleaming amid the thickets of honeysuckle
and lilac; the young man's figure beside her glimmered faintly in the
darkness, but there was no glimpse of Susan D.'s white frock, or
Basil's white head.

"Children!" cried Margaret again. "Don't play any tricks, dears! It is
bedtime, and after, and you must come in. Susan, Cousin wants you,
dear!"

Silence; not a rustle, not a whisper.

"I should suppose they had gone," said Gerald. "Or do you think they are
playing hookey? Wait a minute, and I'll hunt around."

But search availed nothing; the children were not in the summer-house,
nor near it. "They must have gone back to the house," said Margaret.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Merryweather. I am sorry to have given you all
this trouble for nothing."

"Oh, trouble!" said Gerald. "This isn't my idea of trouble, Miss
Montfort. What a pretty place this is! Awfully--I mean, extremely
pretty."

"It is pretty in the daytime. I should hardly think you could see
anything now, it is so dark."

"Well, yes, it is dark; but I mean it seems such a pleasant place to
sit and rest in a little. Hadn't you better sit and rest a minute, Miss
Montfort? The children are all right, you may be sure. Gone to bed, most
likely, like good little kids. I--I often went to bed, when I was a
kid."

Margaret could not help laughing; nevertheless, she turned decidedly
towards the house. "I am afraid I cannot be sure of their having gone to
bed," she said. "I think I must find them, Mr. Merryweather, but if you
are tired, you shall rest on the verandah while I hunt."

Gerald did not want to rest on the verandah, particularly if his recent
assailant were still there. He wanted to stay here in the garden. He
liked the fireflies, and the frogs; the murmur of the brook, and the
soft voice speaking out of the darkness. He thought this was a very nice
girl; he wished she would not be so uneasy about those tiresome
youngsters. However, as there seemed to be no help for it, he followed
Margaret in silence up the gravel walk. She need not hurry so, he
thought; it was very early, not half past eight yet. He wanted to make
his call; he couldn't dress up like this every night; and, besides, it
was a question whether he could ever wear this shirt again by daylight.

Miss Sophronia was not on the verandah.

"Will you not come in?" asked Margaret at the door; but Gerald felt,
rather than heard, the uneasiness in her voice, and decided, much