It didn’t take very long to find that out. At first we heard shouting and laughter coming echoing through the long glades, and then, as we made our way in that direction, we were astonished to meet the usually phlegmatic Elsie careering through the wood at the very top of her speed, her hat off, and her hair streaming in the wind. My first idea was that some frightful catastrophe had occurred--brigands possibly, or a mad dog--and I saw my companion’s big hand close round his stick; but on meeting the fugitive it proved to be nothing more tragic than a game of hide-and-seek which the indefatigable Mr. Cronin had organized. What fun we had, crouching and running and dodging among the Hatherley oaks! and how horrified the prim old abbot who planted them would have been, and the long series of black-coated brethren who have muttered their orisons beneath the welcome shade! Jack refused to play on the excuse of his weak ankle, and lay smoking under a tree in high dudgeon, glaring in a baleful and gloomy fashion at Mr. Solomon Barker; while the latter gentleman entered enthusiastically into the game, and distinguished himself by always getting caught, and never by any possibility catching anybody else. Poor Jack! He was certainly unfortunate that day. Even an accepted lover would have been rather put out, I think, by an incident which occurred during our return home. It was agreed that all of us should walk, as the trap had been already sent off with the empty baskets, so we started down Thorny Lane and through the fields. We were just getting over a stile to cross old Brown’s ten-acre lot, when Mr. Cronin pulled up, and remarked that he thought we had better get into the road. “Road?” said Jack. “Nonsense! We save a quarter of a mile by the field.” “Yes, but it’s rather dangerous. We’d better go round.” “Where’s the danger?” said our military man, contemptuously twisting his mustache. “O, nothing,” said Cronin. “That quadruped in the middle of the field is a bull, and not a very good-tempered one either. That’s all. I don’t think that the ladies should be allowed to go.” “We won’t go,” said the ladies in chorus. “Then come round by the hedge and get into the road,” suggested Sol. “You may go as you like,” said Jack rather testily, “but I am going across the field.” “Don’t be a fool, Jack,” said my brother. “You fellows may think it right to turn tail at an old cow, but I don’t. It hurts my self-respect, you see, so I shall join you at the other side of the farm.” With which speech Jack buttoned up his coat in a truculent manner, waved his cane jauntily, and swaggered off into the ten-acre lot.