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Billy's face cracked into a grin which he was careful to turn from his step-brother. "How'd you like to do all the firin' an' get all the reward, Anse?" he suggested. "I've got a milk-snake here that I want'a get put safe away in the root-house afore Ma takes in the lantern. Maurice'll come along an' help me stow him away.",

"Yes, I have come straight from the Minorca.",

Billy shook him off. "Look here, Harry," he said, "You're seein' things. There ain't no snakes in here—no birds neither. You come along outside with me." He grasped the Irishman by the arm and started toward the door.,

"She has made no meal, then?"

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"Gosh! ain't I been trying," groaned Maurice. "My teeth won't keep still a'tall. Maybe I won't be one glad kid when we get out 'a here.",

She belonged to a race whose extinction Francis Grose lamented. She was what was termed an antiquated gentlewoman whose dress was a survival of the fashion of two if not three earlier generations: consisting of a stiff-starched cap and hood, a little hoop and a rich silk damask gown with large flowers. She acted as housekeeper to her brother, and the keys of the cupboards jingled at her side. She was choice in her stores, which included cordial waters, cherry and raspberry brandy, Daffy's Elixir, pots of currant jelly and raspberry jam, and her stock also comprised salves, electuaries, and purges for the poor. When she walked she leaned, perhaps a little affectedly, on an ivory-handled crutch stick, and a fat pug dog rolled in her wake. This pug now snored alongside of her, and the[Pg 66] little terrier slept with its paws upon the pug's stomach.,

For half an hour they groped their way forward, no further words passing between them. The heavy roar of the rain on the tree tops made conversation next to impossible. The darkness was so dense they were forced to proceed slowly and pause for breath after bumping violently against a tree or sapling. They had been striving for what seemed to both to be a long, long time to find the clearing when Billy paused in his tracks and spoke: "It's no use, Maurice. We're lost.",

"How sits the wind?" enquired Captain Acton, who being used to his daughter's occasional absence took no particular interest in her failure that morning to attend the breakfast table.