This sounded serious. Gilbert's countenance was very grave as he wondered what Gerald had done that he could not tell his father. It must be something very bad, he feared. The lame boy hesitated a few minutes, a flush spreading slowly over his face; then he said in a low tone, with a visible effort— "Look here! I don't want to preach to you; but if you've done something wrong that you don't like to tell your father, don't forget there's One who knows all about it—it's no secret to God! I'd ask Him to help me, if I were you." Having given this advice, he swung himself away on his crutches, whilst Gerald stared after him in astonishment, feeling he had been a little unjust in his dislike of Gilbert Mickle, who evidently was his well-wisher at heart. CHAPTER XXV An Alarming Experience THE warm July evening was drawing in; heavy clouds were rising in the west, leaden in hue, portending a storm; and scarcely a breath of air stirred the leaves on the branches of the beech trees which completely overshadowed the narrow lane along which Dora and Gilbert Mickle were making their homeward way, the former's arms laden with bulrushes which she and her brother had obtained from a pond at a short distance from Wreyford for their mother, who had expressed a desire for some wherewith to decorate an ugly corner in the staircase. "I am afraid your arms must be aching, Dora," Gilbert said; "those bulrushes are heavy, I know. I wish I could help carry them." "Oh, never mind!" she replied cheerfully; "my arms do ache a little, but when we come to the next gateway we'll rest for a bit, shall we?" "Certainly we will. How dark it's getting. It must be later than I thought; or perhaps it's only the branches keeping out the light." The gateway reached, Dora put down her bundle of bulrushes on the ground, and perched herself on the top of the five-barred gate, against which Gilbert leaned whilst he surveyed the view—a stretch of pasture land, and beyond that the old disused clay pits, the water in which, being stagnant, appeared green and unwholesome even at that distance. "See how dark the clouds are over there!" Dora exclaimed, pointing to the horizon. "It looks like a storm, doesn't it? I wonder if it's coming this way!" "Perhaps it is; but, if so, it won't reach Wreyford for some time yet." "Oh, Gilbert, there are two boys fishing in that clay pit—the one nearest here, I mean. I wonder if we can make out who they are. Yes—no—yes —I know!" "I don't!" Gilbert replied. "What sharp eyes you must have, Dora. I can see two figures, but I can't recognize either. Your sight is better than mine. Who are they?" "Reginald Hope and Gerald Willis." "Hope and Willis? Are you sure?" "Quite, quite sure." "I believe Willis has been forbidden to go to the clay pits, and he certainly told me he had promised to remain at home evenings whilst his father was away." "Do you think Mr. Willis can have returned?" Dora suggested.