Humphrey found a good deal to do in his garden, and worked away busily for some time; he then assisted Dolly to turn the mangle, and bottled some soap-suds for future bubble blowing. He also informed her of the honor in store for her at the Harvest Home, and anxiously asked her what gown she meant to wear on the occasion. She must be very smart, he said, _awfully_ smart! Dolly confided her intention of investing in a new print dress, and consulted him as to the color. Casting his thoughts back to the smartest thing he had lately seen, they reverted to the cigar-case, and he suggested crimson and gold. Dolly looked rather scared, and expressed her doubts as to the probability of those colors being found in any print sold in the village. "Yellow would _do_, you know," said Humphrey, "and it would be like the corn." So Dolly promised to try and procure a yellow print, with a red stripe or spot; and, if that were impossible, a plain yellow one could no doubt be found. Time slipped by very quickly, but still Humphrey rather wondered at last that no one should call him in to his tea; and after a while he put his tools away, and wished Dolly good-bye. He gathered a few young radishes for a treat for Miles, and then ran home. He was surprised to find the nursery door locked, and began to kick it. "Miles!" he called out, "I've brought you some radishes. Ouvrez, Virginie, c'est moi!" The door was opened with an angry jerk, and Virginie flounced into the passage. Humphrey saw at a glance that she was in one of what he and Miles called "her states," but whether it was of anger or alarm, he could not at first make out. It was always a bad sign when her face was enveloped in flannel, as was now the case. Virginie always tied up her face on the smallest provocation, though to what end the children had never discovered. But anyhow, she was sure to be out of temper when she did so, and Humphrey waited rather anxiously to hear what she had to say. She burst into a voluble flow of talk, which, owing to her excitement, the boy found it difficult to follow. He managed however, to gather that Miles was very, very ill, that the doctor was very much alarmed about him; that it was all his (Humphrey's) fault; that he had woke Miles by kicking at the door just as she had hoped he was going to get some sleep; that he was to go away and keep away, and that everybody, including the doctor, was very angry with him. Then she retreated into the room, and shut the door, leaving him standing in the passage, with his bunch of radishes in his hand. All the light faded out of Humphrey's face, as he tried to think over what he had just heard. "Miles so ill that the doctor was frightened." That was the most prominent idea at first, and in his dread and apprehension, Humphrey hardly dared move. Sometimes he put his eye to the keyhole, to see if he could discover what was going on in the room, and then, lying down on the door-mat, he listened with all his might.