again. And Jimmy, who was sitting on the edge of what had been the stage, kicking his boots against the pink counterpane, shuddered visibly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Gerald explained—“about the roofs, I mean; you soon get to understand. I heard them say I was a gentlemanly lad as I was coming away. They wouldn’t have cared to notice a little thing like that if they’d been fiends, you know.”

“It doesn’t matter how gentlemanly they think you; if you don’t see me home you aren’t, that’s all. Are you going to?” Mabel demanded.

“Of course I am. We shall have no end of a lark. Now for Mademoiselle.”

He had put on his coat as he spoke and now ran up the stairs. The others, herding in the hall, could hear his light-hearted there’s-nothing-unusual-the-matter-whatever-did-you-bolt-like-that-for knock at Mademoiselle’s door, the reassuring “It’s only me—Gerald, you know,” the pause, the opening of the door, and the low-voiced parley that followed; then Mademoiselle and Gerald at Eliza’s door, voices of reassurance; Eliza’s terror, bluntly voluble, tactfully soothed.

“Wonder what lies he’s telling them,” Jimmy grumbled.

“Oh! not lies,” said Mabel; “he’s only telling them as much of the truth as it’s good for them to know.”

“I wonder what lies he’s telling them”

“If you’d been a man,” said Jimmy witheringly, “you’d have been a beastly Jesuit, and hid up chimneys.”

“If I were only just a boy,” Mabel retorted, “I shouldn’t be scared out of my life by a pack of old coats.”

“I’m so sorry you were frightened,” Gerald’s honeyed tones floated down the staircase; “we didn’t think about you being frightened. And it was a good trick, wasn’t it?”

“There!” whispered Jimmy, “he’s been telling her it was a trick of ours.”

“Well, so it was,” said Mabel stoutly.

“It was indeed a wonderful trick,” said Mademoiselle; “and how did you move the mannikins?”

“Oh, we’ve often done it—with strings, you know,” Gerald explained.

“That’s true, too,” Kathleen whispered.

“Let us see you do once again this trick so remarkable,” said Mademoiselle, arriving at the bottom-stair mat.

“Oh, I’ve cleared them all out,” said Gerald. (“So he has,” from Kathleen aside to Jimmy.) “We were so sorry you were startled; we thought you wouldn’t like to see them again.”

“Then,” said Mademoiselle brightly, as she peeped into the untidy dining-room and saw that the figures had indeed vanished, “if we supped and discoursed of your beautiful piece of theatre?”

Gerald explained fully how much his brother and sister would enjoy this. As for him—Mademoiselle would see that it was his duty to escort Mabel home, and kind as it was of Mademoiselle to ask her to stay the night, it could not be, on account of the frenzied and anxious affection of Mabel’s aunt. And it was useless to suggest that Eliza should see Mabel home, because Eliza was nervous at night unless accompanied by her gentleman friend.

So Mabel was hatted with her own hat and cloaked with a cloak that was not hers; and she and Gerald went out by the front door, amid kind last words and appointments for the morrow.

The moment that front door was shut Gerald caught Mabel by the arm and led her briskly to the corner of the side street which led to the yard. Just round the corner he stopped.

“Now,” he said, “what I want to know is—are you an idiot or aren’t you?”

“Idiot yourself!” said Mabel, but mechanically, for she saw that he was in earnest.

“Because I’m not frightened of the Ugly-Wuglies. They’re as harmless as tame rabbits. But an idiot might be frightened, and give the whole show away. If you’re an idiot, say so, and I’ll go back and tell them you’re afraid to walk home, and that I’ll go and let your aunt know you’re stopping.”

“I’m not an idiot,” said Mabel; “and,” she added, glaring round her with the wild gaze of the truly terror-stricken, “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“I’m going to let you share my difficulties and dangers,” said Gerald; “at least, I’m inclined to let you. I wouldn’t do as much for my own brother, I can tell you. And if you queer my pitch I’ll never speak to you again or let the others either.”

“You’re a beast, that’s what you are! I don’t need to be threatened to make me brave. I am.”

“Mabel,” said Gerald, in low, thrilling tones, for he saw that the time had come to sound another note, “I know you’re brave. I believe in you. That’s why I’ve arranged it like this. I’m certain you’ve got the heart of a lion