"Whom?" I asked.
"Why, Madge--Madge Chantrey," he said.
"You seem to have found an apt pupil."
"Rather."
"But I hope," I spoke severely, "I trust, Tommy, that you haven"t taught her to play truant."
He looked at me, cheekily; then he vanished through the gate.
"Happy dreams," he said, "and, I say, don"t snore _quite_ so loudly, you know."
And I heard him singing as he ran through the wood.
Said Madge, from the first stile, on the right:
"I managed it beautifully; she was reading some of those stupid rhymes by the poet--only I oughtn"t to call them names, because he"s a friend of yours--and I watched her getting sleepier and sleepier, and then I came through the little gate behind the greenhouse and simply ran all the way, and, I expect, she"s fast asleep, and I wonder why grown-up people always go to sleep in the very best part of all the day."
"I think it"s their indigestions, you know," said Tommy thoughtfully.
"But they never eat anything all day--only huge big feeds at night."
"I think everybody"s a _little_ sleepy after lunch."
"I"m not."
"Not after two helps of jam roll?"
"How do you know I had two helps?"
"Never mind," said Tommy, then.
"See that spadger," he cried suddenly.
"Got him, no--missed him, by Jove."
The sparrow was twittering, mockingly, behind the hedge, and a bright-eyed rabbit scuttled into safety.
"Let"s go through the park," cried Tommy.
"I"ll show you a ripping little path, right by the house, where there"s a cave I made before--no one knows it but father and I, an" you can go right by it, an" never see it. Come on."
They scrambled over the iron railings that bound the neat, though modest, domain surrounding Camslove Grange. Through the tall tree trunks they could see the old house with its rough battlements and extended wings. In front of it the trim lawns sloped down to the stream, while behind, the Italian garden was cut out of a wild tangle of shrubs and brushwood.
Into this Tommy plunged, with the unerring steps of long acquaintance, holding back the branches, as Madge followed close upon his heels.
Once he turned, and looked back eagerly into her eyes.
"We"re just by the path now--Isn"t it grand?"
"Rather," she said.
Presently, with much labour, they reached a microscopical track through the underwood.
"There," observed Tommy, with the proud air of a proprietor, "Didn"t I tell you?"
"No one could possibly find it, I should think," said Madge.
"Rather not. Let"s go to the cave."
Followed some further scrambling, and Tommy drew back the bushes triumphantly.
"See--" he began, but the words died upon his lips, for there, standing all unabashed upon this sacred ground, was a boy about his own age.
Tommy stammered and grew silent, looking amazedly at the stranger. He was a pale boy with dark eyes, and a Jewish nose.
"You are trespa.s.sing," he said coolly.
Tommy gasped.
"Who--who are you?" he asked at last.
"I tell you you are trespa.s.sing."
Tommy flushed.
"I"m not," he said. "I--I belong here."
The other boy gave a shout.
"Father," he cried, "Here"s some trespa.s.sers."
Tommy stood his ground, surveying the intruder with some contempt, while Madge wide-eyed held his arm.
There were footsteps through the bushes, and a tall stout man in a panama hat came into view.
"Hullo," he said, "This is private property, you know."
Tommy looked at him gravely.
"I don"t understand--I--I belong here, you know."
The big man smiled.
"You"re a native, are you?" he said cheerfully. "Well, you"re a pretty healthy looking specimen--but this place here is mine--for the time, at any rate."
"It was my father"s," said Tommy, with a strange huskiness in his throat.