"Mon Dieu! You wish be wheep?" sobbed
the bright one.

"If you would weep," I began, confusedly;
but, recollecting myself, "I will be whipped
twice a day," I went on firmly, "and walk on
stilts to my lamentable tomb, so that I may
continue to look on you."

The goddess had barely time to flash upon
me one of her radiant smiles, when a burst of
approaching voices startled her, and she vanished
with the suddenness with which the enamelled
warbler on the lid of a Geneva snuff-box dives
into its little nest of springs. I rubbed my
eyes, also my knees, and resumed my spade, but
not with the same tranquillity. Our prospects—
might I say "our"?—were darkening. Her
mother had written to the doctor. Now the
doctor was particularly sensitive on the score
of our demeanour at church. Conscious that
he could, himself, see nothing beyond the length
of his own nose, he was wont to accept, with
distressing alacrity, any report made by other
parties to our disfavour. The consequences—
next morning—were not agreeable. No
matter. I had been assured of the sympathy,
witnessed the very tears of the lode-star (whatever
that was) of my affections, and surely that
should suffice.

Hastening in search of my friend Murrell, I
confided to him what had happened, and
demanded his advice. Mr. Sillito, being engaged
at, trap-ball (sides), could not compromise the
interests of his party by giving me more of his
attention than the intervals of the sport
permitted; but, by running backwards and
forwards for an earful at a time, contrived to
master the subject sufficiently to give it as his
decided opinion that the bearing of the goddess
Tseery could be construed in no other sense
than that of a direct offer of marriage; that she
was probably at this very moment making
preparations for running away with me; that I had
better see what pecuniary means I had at
command; and finally, that his (Mr. Sillito's)
week's pay (threepence), due on Saturday, was
entirely at my disposal, deducting one half-
penny (fine incurred), and another halfpenny
debt of honour to Charley Bathurst).

The goddess was propitious to my prayer. On
the Sunday following she turned her bright face
twice, and looked for an entire second steadily
in mine. It was as we sat down at the
termination of the hymns. After that, I knew so
well that she would do so at those times, and
none other, that it seemed like a point of honour
to refrain from intermediate watchings.

I was now perfectly content with the situation,
and in the seventh heaven of delight.
Touching the supposed project of elopement,
the godaess—rather to Murrel's dissatisfaction,
but with my unqualified approval—made no sign.
The temple in which she dwelt, known to mankind
in general as Mulberry Lodge, was so near,
that I could, at rare and blessed intervals,
distinguish the quick flutter of her white dress as
she skipped from room to room, occasionally
pausing for a moment at the window. These
apparitions I regarded as my especial property.
They were, indeed, scarcely perceptible to any
but love-sharpened eyes—except, perhaps,
Murrell's—whose mysterious "Tseery!" often
warned me a moment too late! I could also
hear her singing—yes?, even through the buzz
of the schoolroom (when the windows were
open) could I catch the precious strains, wailing
over somebody's "portrait charmant."

Things were in this position, when my above-
mentioned contest with Christian Bohné made
that gentleman my undying foe. His hostility
would have been nothing to me but for the
form it took. By wiles I was too careless to
detect, and never since have thoroughly
understood, he contrived to win over to his
confidence my small but, as I had imagined, well-
selected friend, Murrell Sillito. It must have
been through some mysterious fear. It was
surely not in human nature to like Christian;
and Murrell was above a bribe.

All I know is, that Master Sillito gradually
cooled towards me. Whenever he could avoid
me, without seeming to do it, he did. Our
confidential intercourse dwindled to nothing. In
the same proportion did Murrell's curious attachment
to Christian augment. The boy followed
him like a spaniel; and, if they happened to be
apart, a mere glance from Christian across the
playground would bring Murrell to his side.

Absorbed as I was in dreams of the bright
one, Murrell's defection gave me no very serious
grief. But how, I one day thought, if he
should be treacherous enough to betray my
heart-counsels to that beast Bohné? The fear
was prophetic. At a later period, I knew that
this was Christian's object, from the beginning.
He had discovered that a secret of intense
interest existed between Sillito and myself, and
devoted all his natural cunning to its discovery.
He succeeded. Poor Murrell confessed to his
inquisitor the general story of my love, but the
name choked him. Pressed on that material
point, he led the Honourable Christian up to
the black board upon which, in school-time, the
fanciful designs of Euclid were wont to be
drawn; thereon, with trembling, guilty fingers,
inscribed the fatal word,
"TSEERY,"
and rubbed it out again in an instant.

"'Tseery!' " exclaimed Mr. Bohné. "What
sort of game is that? Come, Master Murrell,
no nonsense, or——"

There being now literally nothing more to
conceal, Mr. Sillito at once added a personal
description of the "game" in question, its habits
and abode; and, receiving threepence from his
questioner, invested the reward of perfidy in
a custard tart.

"'Tseery,' eh?" Mr. Bohné had remarked,
as they were about to part; "good, my little
friend. Then I see my terrible way. I shall
set Rabbit on her."

This was accompanied with a Iook so malignant,
that Murrell, shuddering from head to foot
with a nameless terror, could only open his blue
eyes, and faintly re-echo: