Mary knew better than to spoil the game, but she gave a beseeching glance at him, and beckoned. Jackie shook his head; evidently his feelings were hurt, and he did not mean to be friends just yet. Mary was in despair. How could she manage to speak to him? Perhaps this was her only chance of doing so alone. From her perch she could see the pursuers scouring wildly about in a wrong direction at present, but soon they could not fail to search the nut-walk, and then it would be too late. She took the little clog from her pocket, cautiously descended the tree, and creeping up to Jackie, placed the parcel noiselessly at his side. It was neatly folded in white paper, and had his name written on it in elegant fancy letters. Jackie turned his head and saw the inscription: "For Jackie, with Mary's love." His screwed-up mouth widened into a grin, he picked it up, turned it round and round, and at last whispered hoarsely: "Why didn't you give it before?" "Because of Fraulein," answered Mary in the same tone; "they're a long way off. Come up into the tree." Both children were soon tightly wedged into the nut-tree seat, and Jackie at once began to examine his package; watching his face, Mary could see that he was surprised when the clog appeared, though he tried to hide it by another grin. "Thank you," he whispered. "It's the only thing I had," explained Mary hurriedly. "I meant to give you _such_ a nice thing. I saved my money, and I had enough. You _would_ have liked it so--" She stopped and sobbed a little under her breath. Jackie said nothing. He was evidently wondering why she had not given him this nice thing. The reason was such a dreadful reason, and it was so hard not to be able to explain it all to him, that Mary could not keep back her tears: she bit her lip, and screwed up her face, but it was useless, they would come, so she leant her forehead against Jackie's velveteen shoulder, and cried in good earnest, without saying another word. Jackie was both startled and uncomfortable; the tree quite shook with the violence of Mary's sobs, and her long hair got into his eyes and tickled his face as he sat, screwed up close to her in the narrow perch. He did not mind that, but he was very sorry indeed to see her so unhappy, and could not think how to comfort her. Lately he had seen her cry several times, but never as badly as this. What could be the matter? With some difficulty he tugged out of his pocket a small handkerchief, which by a lucky chance was perfectly clean, and, raising her face a little, dabbed her eyes softly with it. "Don't," he whispered. "I like the shoe awfully--_much_ better than the other thing you were going to give me. Don't cry." But Mary cried on. "You don't surely mind what that owl of a Fraulein said, do you?" continued Jackie. "N-no," said Mary. "What are you crying for, then?" If she could only tell him! "Is it anything about the Secret?" asked Jackie. No answer.