CHAPTER XX.
THE AMBUSH.
For more reasons than one, Fergus judged it prudent to tell not even auntie Jean of his intention; but, waiting until the house was quiet, stole softly from his room and repaired to the kitchen--at the other end of the long straggling house, where he sat down, and taking his book, an annual of the beginning of the century, began to read the story of Kathed and Eurelia.

Having finished it, he read another.

He read and read, but no brownie came.

His candle burned into the socket.

He lighted another, and read again.