Mirko had stolen out, and with the cunning of his little brain fully on the alert he had dodged Mrs.Morley in the garden, and had fled to the near pine woods with his violin; and there had met his father and had a blissful time.

He was certainly better, Mimo said, a little fatter and with much less cough, and he seemed fairly happy and quite resigned.

The Morleys were so kind and good, but, poor souls! it was not their fault if they could not understand! It was not given to every one to have the understanding of his Cherisette and his own papa, Mirko had said, but so soon he would be well; then he would be able to come back to them, and in the meantime he was going to learn lessons, learn the tiresome things that his Cherisette alone knew how to teach him with comprehension.

The new tutor who came each day from the town was of a reasonableness, but no wit! "Body of Bacchus!" the father said, "the poor child had not been able to make the tutor laugh once--in a week--when we met." And then after a while it seemed that there was some slight care upon Mimo's mind.

It had rained, it appeared, before the end of their stolen meeting.