Hughie decided she had been running also. But he felt this was not the time or place to go into the question. He ate his supper in silence, and matured a telling and desperate plan for paying his sister back. He would ignore her presence. He would not say good-night to her. Thus when bed-time came, Hughie, busy as usual with some infinitely small carpentering work connected with his latest boat, got up, put away his tiny blocks, pulleys, and fine cord, and went to kiss his mother. She was making sails for him--perfect sails with amazingly neat reefing knots and cord-stiffened edges. Nobody could make model boat-sails like Mrs. Romilly. "Oh, Mum----" said Hughie very low, and smiled. "Tired boy," answered ’Mum’, also smiling, "go to bed and go to sleep, and don’t wake till eight." Hughie said good-night to Adrian, Christobel, and the Floweret; then he went off to bed, deliberately missing out Pam. Nobody thought about it but Pam herself. The others were all busy, Addie and Crow playing chess and too much absorbed, the Floweret reading the newspaper to Mrs. Romilly. Pamela, very intently taking notes from her precious handbook, had turned her head ready for Hughie’s kiss. He always kissed her as well as his mother. But Hughie walked down the room with short quick steps, opened the door, shut it very softly, and was gone. This action was in no way lost on his sister. She not only saw it all, but she realized that it was a case of extreme measures on Hughie’s part, and made up her mind to get to the bottom of the business. Pamela’s bedroom was a small one at the end of the house, and it looked out over the sea-wall and into the rocky cove. Hughie’s room was a pair to it, farther along the little cross passage that barred the end of the long corridor down the centre of the house. Hughie’s window looked the same way as Pamela’s, and they were exactly alike--strong casements, deep window seats, with a view passing description for peace and beauty. At nine o’clock Pam went up to bed; but she walked by her own door, to Hughie’s, and without knocking, opened it softly and went in. A young clear moon was rising up the purple sky, and there was light enough to show any movements, especially as the blind was up. The owner of the room was in bed, and no doubt ought to have been asleep, but the excitements already narrated had kept him awake--combined with the expectation of a visit from his sister. He turned his head on the pillow and looked at her. Pamela closed the door gently, came to the foot of the bed, and leaning her crossed arms on the brass foot, said: "What’s the matter, Midget?" Hughie was not the sort of person to pretend he did not know what she was thinking of. He retorted by another question. "Why didn’t you stop when I called you, Pam?" "Called me! Where? When?" "On the top of Hawksdown--where the road goes to Clawtol," said Hughie. "But _when_?" "Why, this evening, when I was coming home, of course."