"There is the Yew Walk." From this moment the conversation was carried on in whispers, to Bill's further mystification.

The young gentlemen recovered their spirits, and kept exploding in smothered chuckles of laughter.
"Cold work for him if he's been waiting long!" whispered one.
"Don't know.

His head's under cover, remember!" said the other: and they laughed.
"Bet you sixpence he's been smearing his hand with brimstone for the last half hour." "Don't smell him yet, though." "He'll be a patent aphis-destroyer in the rose-garden for months to come." "Sharp work for the eyelids if it gets under the sheet." They were now close by the Yews, out of which the wind came with a peculiar chill, as if it had been passing through a vault.

Mr.Bartram Lindsay stooped down, and whispered in Bill's ear.

"Listen, my lad.