And I can tell you this"-- with a little emphatic shake of her charming head--"that I should not tell _you_ anything of this secret, only that you are always calling her names." "Her?
Who ?" "Oh, you know very well." "Who do I know very well?
Not a soul here except you; and, after all, I don't think I know _you_ very well." "Well, if you don't you ought." "Ought what?
Know the mysterious 'her' or you ?" _"Me!"_ Hescott looks at her keenly in the dim light.

_Is_ she a born coquette, or is she only a sweet child--the sweetest child that earth ever gave forth?
Somehow it would have hurt him to find her a coquette.
"Ah! I _don't_ know you." "Tom!" There is a little reproach in her tone.

Suddenly she puts out her little slim hand and slips it into his.

"As if we weren't brought up together," says she, "just like a brother and sister.

You remember the old days, don't you, Tom?
when we used to go fishing together, and the cricket----" "Is it wise to remember ?" says Hescott in a low tone.
His heart is beating; his fingers now close on hers.
"I don't know--yes.