I sat up and clasped my hands about my knees. “I wonder what it will be like living in town?” I said. “Yes, you’re going away next month, aren’t you? Aunt Clara told me.” “My father wanted me to try for a post in a Government office. There is a boy who lives here who is going to do that: he is working for his exam. now.” Then I added, I don’t know why; “Mrs. Carroll is paying for me, and will be afterwards, when I go to college. I’m to go to one of the English universities――Oxford, I think. Of course my father couldn’t afford to send me, and indeed he’d rather I didn’t go at all. He let me decide, however, though there was really only one thing that made him give in.” “What?” “My mother once sent money to be used for my education, and he would not take it.” Katherine was mystified, and, as I saw this, it dawned on me that I should not have spoken. I had taken it for granted that she knew all about me. “You know, my mother doesn’t live at home,” I explained; and then, to change the subject, I took the piece of paper Willie Breen had given me that morning from my pocket. “Can you guess what that is?” I asked. She turned it over. “It means that on Friday there will be a meeting of a kind of club we have,” I said. “It is a night club. The whole thing is a secret. We have supper round a fire, and talk, and tell yarns, and all that.” “Outside?” “Yes; over on the golf-links usually.” “But why at night?” “Oh, I don’t know. Pretty late too――about half-past eleven or twelve. I got it up last year with some of the boys who were staying down here. And then, afterwards, I kept it up with two or three of the chaps at school. This year I got sick of it, and I’ve only been to one meeting.” “At night! It must be rather queer. I love the sea at night. Are you allowed to bring visitors?” “There is no rule; there are no rules of any kind. Would you like to come?” Katherine hesitated. Then she laughed. “Yes. Would it matter?” “There’ll be nobody but boys there.” “But you’d take me; and of course, Gerald would come.” “I’ll take you if you’ll come by yourself,” I said. “Without Gerald? I couldn’t. What harm would he do?” I did not say; but without Gerald I knew I could carry the thing off, with him it would be difficult. “You’d have to promise not to tell anybody,” I explained. “Of course. If I told, I shouldn’t be there myself.” “But I mean even afterwards.” “I’ll not tell.” For a minute or two we looked down the hill-side, bathed in the afternoon sun; then I made up my mind. “If you can promise that Gerald won’t talk about it I’ll take you. But won’t you find it difficult to get out?” I added immediately afterwards. “No; we’ll simply sit up later than the others. They seem to go to bed about ten.” “But the lodge-gate will be locked.” “I can easily manage about that.” I regretted having mentioned the matter at all, yet I hadn’t the courage to draw back. “I’ll tell you on Friday morning exactly when to be ready,” I said.