On the dry grass under a pine-tree, where the ground was strewn with needles and cones, sat Miriam, whilst Dicky scampered and frolicked about, climbed the trees, and behaved generally after the manner of his kind. This day the boy seemed full of vitality and the very joy of life. The strong sun drew out the resinous odour of the pines, and the whole wood was filled with their spicy fragrance. Through the green branches Miriam caught sight of the blue sky overhead, and watched the strong shafts of the sun-god smite into the twilight heart of the woods. She sat with a book on her lap, drinking in the pure air and revelling in the gambols of the sunlight through the trees, though ever with a watchful eye upon Dicky as he played. "This is a fairy wood, Miss Crane; and I am the knight who seeks a lovely princess enchanted by a magician. She has gone to sleep for a hundred years, so you must shut your eyes, please." Miriam laughed too. "Now I am fighting my way through the wood. Whist, Whist! oh how strong the branches are; but here is the palace. I walk upstairs and find the room where the beautiful princess is sleeping on her purple bed. I kiss her, and----" "She wakes!" cried Miriam, catching the boy in her arms, and repaying the kiss with a dozen. "Oh, Dicky, how I wish I could sleep for a hundred years!" "I don't," replied the boy seriously. "You would not be with me then." "But think of the long holiday you would have, dear." "I don't want any holiday without you. There would be no jolly games like we have now. Come on, Miss Crane. I'm going to be Samson now, and slay the Philistines; I----" "All right, Dick, my boy, here's one of them; come on!" It was Gerald Arkel who spoke, and the instant he did so, Miriam noticed that his voice was quite unlike himself. There was always upon him that look of hereditary delicacy, but now there were dark circles under his eyes, and he wore a haggard and weary expression which unmistakably betokened sleepless nights. When he saw who it was, Dicky threw himself into his arms with a shout. "Oh, I'm so glad it's you, Cousin Gerald; come on, we can play at horses now." "No, no, Dicky, I can't. I'm not on for games this morning. You go on being Samson and find some more Philistines to slaughter. How are you, Miss Crane?" "Oh, I'm very well, thank you. And you, Mr. Arkel, you're not looking quite yourself; are you ill?" He flung himself on the grass beside her, and picked up a fir-cone which he began to pull to pieces. "I feel nearly dead," he said irritably; "I suppose I must expect to. I was playing pretty well through the night, and worse luck, dropped a good deal too. I never can get on without my sleep, and lately my nerves have been playing Old Harry with me!" "Then why in the name of goodness do you go on like this--you are ruining your health." "Oh, a fellow must live, and enjoy himself somehow!"