‘Fly away, fly away, you pretty creature,’ said Phyllis; ‘make haste, or Maurice will come and catch you again. I wish I had not given you such a fright. I thought you would have been killed, and a pin stuck all through that pretty blue and black body of yours. Oh! that would be dreadful. Make haste and go away! I would not have caught you, you beautiful thing, if I had known what he wanted to do. I thought he only wanted to look at your beautiful body, like a little bit of the sky come down to look at the flowers, and your delicate wings, and great shining eyes. Oh! I am very glad God made you so beautiful. Oh! there is Maurice coming. I must blow upon you to make you go. Oh, that is right—up quite high in the air—quite safe,’ and she clapped her hands as the dragon-fly rose in the air, and disappeared behind the laurels, just as Maurice and Reginald emerged from the shrubbery, the former with a bottle in his hand. ‘Well, where is the Libellulla?’ said he. ‘The dragon-fly?’ said Phyllis. ‘I let it out.’ ‘Sold, Maurice!’ cried Reginald, laughing at his brother’s disaster. ‘Upon my word, Phyl, you are very kind!’ said Maurice, angrily. ‘If I had known you were such an ill-natured crab—’ ‘Oh! Maurice dear, don’t say so,’ exclaimed Phyllis. ‘I thought I might let it out because I caught it myself; and I told you I did not catch it for you to kill; Maurice, indeed, I am sorry I vexed you.’ ‘What else did you do it for?’ said Maurice. ‘It is horrid not to be able to leave one’s things a minute—’ ‘But I did not know the dragon-fly belonged to you, Maurice,’ said Phyllis. ‘That is a puzzler, Mohun senior,’ said Reginald. ‘Now, Redgie, do get Maurice to leave off being angry with me,’ implored his sister. ‘I will leave off being angry,’ said Maurice, seeing his advantage, ‘if you will promise never to let out my things again.’ ‘I do not think I can promise,’ said Phyllis. ‘O yes, you can,’ said Reginald, ‘you know they are not his.’ ‘Promise you will not let out any insects I may get,’ said Maurice, ‘or I shall say you are as cross as two sticks.’ ‘I’ll tell you what, Maurice,’ said Phyllis, ‘I do wish you would not make me promise, for I do not think I _can_ keep it, for I cannot bear to see the beautiful live things killed.’ ‘Nonsense,’ said Maurice, fiercely, ‘I am very angry indeed, you naughty child; promise—’ ‘I cannot,’ said Phyllis, beginning to cry. ‘Then,’ said Maurice, ‘I will not speak to you all day.’ ‘No, no,’ shouted Reginald, ‘we will only treat her like the horse-stinger; you wanted a puella, Maurice—here is one for you, here, give her a dose of the turpentine.’ ‘Yes,’ said Maurice, advancing with his bottle; ‘and do you take the poker down to Naylor’s to be sharpened, it will just do to stick through her back. Oh! no, not Naylor’s—the girls have made a hash there, as they do everything else; but we will settle her before they come out again.’