"Have you got it done? Will it be all right for the prize and all that?" asked Gratian. Tony nodded. "I think so. I sat up late last night writing, and I think I'll get it done to-night. It was awful good of you, Gratian," Tony went on, growing more at his ease, "for I won't go for to say that it wasn't a mean trick about the stones. But I meant to go back and get the books and keep them safe for you till the next morning. You did look so funny tramping along with the bag of stones," and Tony's face screwed itself up as if he wanted to laugh but dared not. "It didn't _feel_ funny," said Gratian. "It felt very horrid. Indeed it makes me get cross to think of it even now--don't say any more about it, Tony." For it did seem to him as if, after all, the miller's boy was getting off rather easily! And it felt a little hard that all the good things should be falling to Tony's share, when he had been so unkind to another. "I want to forget it," he went on; "if the master knew about it, he'd not let you off without a good scolding. But I'm not going to stand here shivering--I tell you I don't want to say any more about it, Tony." "Shivering," repeated Tony, "why it's a wonderful mild morning for November. Father was just saying so"--and to tell the truth Gratian himself had thought it so as he ran across the moor. "But, Gratian, you needn't be so mad with me now--I know it was a mean trick, and just to show you that I know it, I promise you the master _shall_ know all about it," and Tony held his head higher as he said the words. "There's only one thing, Gratian. I do wish you'd tell me where you found my book, and how you knew where I'd hidden yours? I've been thinking and thinking about it, and I can't make it out. Folks do say as there's still queer customers to be met on the moor after nightfall. I wonder if you got the fairies to help you, Gratian?" added Tony laughing. Gratian laughed too. "No, Tony, it wasn't the fairies," he said, his good-humour returning. And it was quite restored by a sweet soft whisper at that moment breathed into his ear--"no, not the fairies--but who it was is our secret--eh, Gratian?" And Gratian laughed again softly in return. "Who was it then?" persisted Tony. But just then the school-bell rang, and there was no time for more talking. Tony was kept very busy for the next day or two with his writing-out, which took him longer than he expected. Gratian too was working hard to make up for lost time, but he felt happy. He saw that the master was pleased, and that his companions were beginning to look up to him as they had never done before. But he missed his new friends. The weather was very still--for some days he had heard scarcely a rustle among the trees and bushes, and though he had lain awake at night, no murmuring voices in the chimney had reached his ears. "Have they gone away already? Was it all a dream?" the child asked himself sadly.