“It’s either now or never,” said Ann Veronica, again ascending this stile. Great vistas of history opened, and she and her aunt were near reverting to the primitive and passionate and entirely indecorous arboreal—were swinging from branches by the arms, and really going on quite dreadfully—when their arrival at the Palsworthys’ happily checked this play of fancy, and brought Ann Veronica back to the exigencies of the wrappered life again. "I thought as much," continued Jonathan. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. ” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked. They had changed identities absolutely. " "What?" "We'll put those stories back into the trunk and never speak of them to him. ” And she pressed her lips together in white resolution and nodded, and she was manifestly full of that same passion for conflict and selfsacrifice that has given the world martyrs since the beginning of things. CHAPTER VIII. White was scattered across the long stretches of pine trees and corn fields. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs. ‘He arst me to find him someone who might go with you. "Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons? Not I.
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