r,"
and "Muvver, oh, _please!_" Mrs. Leighton set Lewis on his feet between
them. Shenton held out his hand. "How d' ye."

"How do do," replied Lewis, gravely. Natalie was plucking at his arm. He
turned to her. They were almost of a size, but to Natalie he towered an
inch above her. She held up her lips, and he kissed them. Then they
stood and stared at each other. Natalie's short forefinger found its way
to her mouth.

"My dwess is wumpled," she said.

"I got a dog at home," declared Lewis--"a _big_ dog."

CHAPTER III

To Natalie, Shenton, and Lewis the scant twenty acres that surrounded
Consolation Cottage was a vast demesne. Even on a full holiday one could
choose one's excursions within its limits. From the high-plumed wall of
bamboos that lined Consolation Street, through the orange-grove, across
the hollow where were stable and horses, cows and calves, then up again
to the wood on the other hillside--ah, that was a journey indeed, never
attempted in a single day. They chose their playground. To-day the
bamboos held them, to-morrow the distant grove, where were pungent
fruits, birds'-nests, fantastic insects, and elusive butterflies and
moths.

Then there was the brier-patch, with its secret chamber. By dint of long
hours of toil and a purloined kitchen-knife they had tunneled into a
clearing in the center of the thicket. Of all their retreats, this one
alone had foiled their watchful overseers. Here was held, undetected,
many an orgy over stolen fruit.

Nor did they have to seek far for a realm of terror. Behind the
brier-patch was the priest's wall. Over it was wafted the fragrance of
unknown flowers and of strange fruits--and the barking of a fierce dog.
With the same kitchen-knife they pried loose a brick and slipped it out.
They took turns at peeking through this tiny window on a strange world.
What ecstasy when first they glimpsed the flat-hatted, black-robed
figure strolling in the wondrous garden! Then terror seized them, for
the quick-eyed priest had seen the hole, and before they could flee his
toe was in it, and his frowning face, surmounted by the flaring hat,
popped above the wall and glared down upon them.

"Do you hear my dog?" whispered the priest.

It was Natalie, trembling with fright, who answered, feeling a certain
kinship for anything in skirts.

"Yeth, I do."

"Well," whispered the priest, his face twitching in the effort to look
stern, "he eats little children." With th