She was most palpably stumped with her second ball, but the umpire gave her "not out," amid general applause, for she was a favourite. She lashed out awkwardly at the next ball, which came on the leg side. It came towards Mendel at an incredible speed. He put his foot on it, picked it up, pretended it had passed him, and tore towards the trees in simulated pursuit; and he remained looking for it in the bracken while Morrison ran four, five, six, seven, eight, and just as some one cried "Lost ball!" he stooped, pretended to pick it up, and threw it back to the bowler. He himself was bowled first ball, but, as it turned out, Morrison's side won by three runs. She was bubbling over with happiness, and after tea she came over to him and said:-- "I say, Kühler, that _was_ a good catch." He folded his arms and cocked his chin and looked down his nose as he said:-- "Oh! yes. I can play cricket." "You made a blob," she said with a grin. "A catch like that," he answered, "is enough for one day. I have seen many words written in the papers about a catch like that. Even Calthrop does not have so many words written about his pictures." "I shall hate to go back to London after this," she said. "I didn't know there was anything so beautiful near London." "There is Hampstead," he said. "I've never been there," she replied. "Will you let me take you to Hampstead? It has lilies and water." "Oh yes," she said eagerly. "Do let us go into the woods now before we start. I'm sure there must be lovely places." He followed her, first looking round to see what had become of Mitchell, whom he saw standing with a scowl on his face, a foolish figure. "Don't talk!" said Morrison. "I'm sure it is lovely through here." She led the way through a grove of pines into a beech glade, at the end of which they found a dingle, where they stood and gazed back. "Oh, look!" she cried. "Look at the pine stems through the sea-green of the beeches. Purple they are, and don't they swing?" "I like the wind in the trees," said Mendel. He saw that there were tears in her eyes, and he caught some of her ecstasy. But he could not understand it at all and it hurt him horribly. She was wonderful and beautiful to him, the very heart of all that loveliness, the song of it, its music and its mystery. "She is only a little girl," he said to himself very clearly, stamping out the words in his mind, so that it was as though someone else had spoken to him. The ecstasy grew in her, and with it the pain in him. She swayed towards him and fell against his breast and raised her lips to him. He stooped and almost in terror just touched them with his. He was a sorry prince for a sleeping beauty, for he was afraid lest she should awake. V HAPPY HAMPSTEAD ON the morning of the day fixed for their expedition to Hampstead Heath she sent him roses--yellow roses. He took them across to his mother and gave them to her, saying:-- "I do not need flowers. I am happy."