Timothy came in. Catching sight of strangers in the room, he paused, hesitating on the mat, nervously twisting his cap in his hands. Timothy was a fat, awkward-looking boy, about twelve years old, with puffy cheeks, and round eyes, and a simple expression. Miss Marigold introduced him as her nephew, much to the children’s surprise, as he was utterly unlike his aunt in every way—in looks especially, except for the hair, which was the same pale yellow colour. “Timothy has been out to a tea-party to-day,” said Miss Marigold to the children. “Haven’t you, Timothy?” “Umth,” lisped Timothy, in a thick voice, nodding his head. “I hope you enjoyed yourself,” said Molly, politely. “Perapths,” replied Timothy, sitting down on the extreme edge of a chair. Molly looked puzzled, but he seemed well-meaning, and she felt sorry for him as he appeared to be so nervous. “What kept you so late?” asked his aunt. “You ought to have been home an hour ago—you know I don’t like you being out after dusk.” Timothy blushed and began a jerky, stammering sort of explanation. His aunt frowned a little and looked at him suspiciously. “You haven’t been on the Goblin’s Heath, have you?” Miss Marigold asked. “No, ma’m,” replied Timothy, promptly. “Where have you come from?” he asked Jack suddenly. “We’ve just come from the Goblin’s Heath,” replied Jack; and at Timothy’s eager request to be told about their adventures, Jack started to tell him about their search. Timothy appeared to listen intently, until presently his aunt got up and went out of the room to prepare the bedrooms. Immediately he leant across the table and interrupted. “Here!” he exclaimed suddenly. Jack stopped speaking, and stared at Timothy, who was obviously in a very excited state. “Here, I thay! What do you thig?” said Timothy. “What? What is it? What’s the matter?” asked Jack. “I theen _it_,” said Timothy, and exploded with laughter. Jack and Molly exchanged bewildered glances, while Timothy rolled and rocked in his chair with laughter till the tears ran down his fat white cheeks. He continued to gasp and laugh until Molly grew quite concerned about him, and jumping off her chair she ran to the door to call his aunt. This sobered him immediately and he sprang up waving his hand to stop her. “Don’t, don’t,” he managed to gasp. “I alwayth laugh when ... he! he! he!... when I exthited ... don’t call aunt ... I tell you ... he! he! he! he!... in a minute.” When he had quieted down a bit he said: “Aunt muthn’t know, becauth ’e thig I been out to tea—well, I haven’t—and I been where ’e told me not to go, and I _theen_ it!” He was getting fearfully excited again. “Seen what? Oh, do tell us,” said Molly. “The ... he! he! he!...” Timothy giggled. “The ... Black Leaf!” “Oh,” cried Jack and Molly together, their questions tumbling over each other in their eagerness. “Where is it? Where did you see it? Did you pick it? What did you do with it?”