From my exalted position I can see a long way before me, and there in the distance, coming with fatal certainty in my direction, I espy Mr. Carrington! At the same moment Billy's legs push themselves in a dangling fashion through the branches of his tree, and are followed by the remainder of his person a little later. Forgetful of my original design, forgetful of everything but the eternal disgrace that will cling to me through life if found by our landlord in my present unenviable plight, I call to him, in tones suppressed indeed, but audible enough to betray my hiding-place. "Billy, here is Mr. Carrington--he is coming towards us. Catch these nuts quickly, while I get down." "Why where on earth---" begins Billy, and then grasping the exigencies of the case, refrains from further vituperation, and comes to the rescue. The foe steadily advances. I fling all my collected treasure into Billy's upturned face, and seizing a branch begin frantically to beat a retreat. I am half-way down, but still very, _very_ far from the ground--at least, so far, that Billy can render me no assistance--when I miss my footing, slip a little way down against my will, and then sustain a check. Some outlying bough, with vicious and spiteful intent, has laid hold on my gown in such way that I can not reach to undo it. "Come down, can't you?" says Billy, with impatience "you are showing a yard and a half of your leg." "I can't!" I groan; "I'm caught somewhere. Oh, _what_ shall I do?" Meantime, Mr. Carrington is coming nearer and nearer. As I peer at him through the unlucky branches I can see he is looking if anything rather handsomer than usual, with his gun on his shoulder and a pipe between his lips. As he meets my eyes riveted upon him from my airy perch he takes out the pipe and consigns it to his pocket. If he gets round to the other side of the tree, from which point the horrors of my position are even more forcibly depicted, I feel I shall drop dead. "Why don't you get that lazy boy to do the troublesome part of the business for you?" calls out our welcome friend, while yet at some distance. Then, becoming suddenly aware of my dilemma, "Are you in any difficulty? Can I help you down?" He has become preternaturally grave--so grave that it occurs to me he may possibly be repressing a smile. Billy, I can see, is inwardly convulsed. I begin to feel very wrathful. "I don't want any help" I say, with determination. "But for my dress I could manage---" "Better let me assist you," says Mr. Carrington, making a step forward. In another moment he will have gained the other side, and then all will be indeed lost. "No, _no!_" I cry, desperately; "I _won't_ be helped. Stay where you are." "Very good," returns he, and, immediately presenting his back to me, makes a kind pretense of studying the landscape.