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"Will you be seated?" "Frightened! Oh gollies, I was so scared that I chattered my teeth loose. But honest Injun, Lou, I don't scare easy. I wouldn't like you to think that I'm a scare-cat about real things. I'm jest scared of ghosts, that's all." "I don't shoot quail any more," Billy answered. "I've got to know 'em too well, I guess. You see," in answer to the other boy's look of surprise, "when a feller gets to know what chummy, friendly little beggars they are, he don't feel like shootin' 'em.".

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Not far from the large old-fashioned hearth[Pg 65] beside a little table on which stood a work-basket, sat in a tall-backed arm-chair fit for a queen to be crowned in, a figure that must have carried the memory of a middle-aged or old man of that time well back into the past century. She was Miss Acton, Lucy's Aunt Caroline, sister of Captain Acton, a lady of about seventy years of age, who trembled with benevolence and imaginary alarms, who was always doing somebody good, and was now at work upon some baby clothing for an infant that had been born a week or two before. Half an hour later he came out upon the lake shore. Quickly he scraped together a pile of drift wood. He applied a match to it and as fire leaped up stood frowning across the water. Then, as an answering light flashed from some distance out in the lake, he sighed in relief and seating himself on the sand lit his pipe. After a time the sound of oars fell on his ears. A boat scraped on the beach. Two men stepped from it and approached the fire. Mr Lawrence went close to him and shouted. "She has ripped up her mattress and is throwing the inside of it round about her!" Mr Lawrence frowned, pursed his lip, and[Pg 297] stared upon the deck with a strange admixture of gloom and anger..