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"Bill won't bother you none if you do what I say," said Maurice as he made for the grove. Half an hour later he and Billy approached old Harry's hut and knocked gently on the door. Harry's voice bade them enter., Here he paused and his searching eyes sought the lower sweep of woodland. A clump of tall poplars gleamed silvery-white against the dark green of the beeches; far down at the end of the sweep the yellow tops of hardy willows stood silhouetted against the undying green of massed cedars and pines. Billy gazed down upon it all and his heart swelled with the deep joy of life, his nerves tingled to the tang of the woodland scents. Something deep, stirring, mysterious, had come to him. He did not know what that something was—it was too vague and incomprehensible for definition just yet., He bent forward to grasp the hand which Billy raised slowly, thereby dodging a stone ink-bottle hurled by Maurice Keeler. At it was the bottle struck the blackboard and broke, deluging the teacher's face with a sable spray..