"
His eyes returned to their proper position, likewise his hands.
His heart was perfectly light again as he turned to go back to the
house. When he had gone a few steps he came back.
"D'ye want that catapult very much, Meg?" he said gently.
"You're only a girl, so I don't 'spect it would be very much
good to you, would it?"
"No, I don't want it. Here, take it, and hurry back: think of
your map," Meg returned, in a very fever of impatience at his
slowness.
And then Bunty, utterly happy once more, turned and ran away gaily
up to the house. And Meg let down the slip-rail, put it back in
its place with trembling fingers, and fled in wild haste through
the two remaining paddocks.
The wattle-scrub at the end was very quiet; there was not a rustle,
not a sound of a voice, not a sound of the affected little laugh
that generally told when Aldith was near.
Meg stopped breathless, and peered among the bushes; there was a
tall figure leaning against the fence.
"Andrew!" she said in a sharp whisper, and forgetting in her
anxiety that she never called him by his Christian name--"where
are the others? Hasn't Aldith come?"
There was the smell of a cigar, and, looking closely, she saw to
her horror it was Alan.
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