"Well, you are a rum little cove!" he said. "Of course, I don't want to go if you think it would be horrid of me; but I thought we might pretend it was the execution of Mary Queen of Scots, and find it most awfully exciting." "How you do go on about Mary Queen of Scots! Not long ago you were always bothering about heathen goddesses, and now you have no thought for anything but Mary." "Oh! but I'm still immensely interested in goddesses, Chris; and I do wish, when you are doing Latin and Greek at school, you'd find out what colour Pallas Athene's hair was. Couldn't you?" "No; I couldn't." "But you might ask one of the masters. They'd be sure to know." Christopher laughed the laugh of the scornful. "I say, you are a duffer to suppose that clever men like schoolmasters bother their heads about such rot as the colour of a woman's hair." "Of course, I know they wouldn't about a woman's," Elisabeth hastened to justify herself; "but I thought perhaps they might about a goddess's." "It is the same thing. You've no idea what tremendously clever chaps schoolmasters are--much too clever to take any interest in girls' and women's concerns. Besides, they are too old for that, too--they are generally quite thirty." Elisabeth was silent for a moment; and Christopher whistled as he looked across the green valley to the sunset, without in the least knowing how beautiful it was. But Elisabeth knew, for she possessed an innate knowledge of many things which he would have to learn by experience. But even she did not yet understand that because the sunset was beautiful she felt a sudden hunger and thirst after righteousness. "Chris, do you think it is wicked of people to fall in love?" she asked suddenly. "Not exactly wicked; more silly, I should say," replied Chris generously. "Because if it is wicked, I shall give up reading tales about it." This was a tremendous and unnatural sacrifice to principle on the part of Elisabeth. Christopher turned upon her sharply. "You don't read tales that Miss Farringdon hasn't said you may read, do you?" "Yes; lots. But I never read tales that she has said I mustn't read." "You oughtn't to read any tale till you have asked her first if you may." Elisabeth's face fell. "I never thought of doing such a thing as asking her first. Oh! Chris, you don't really think I ought to, do you? Because she'd be sure to say no." "That is exactly why you ought to ask." Christopher's sense of honour was one of his strong points. Then Elisabeth lost her temper. "That is you all over! You are the most tiresome boy to have anything to do with! You are always bothering about things being wrong, till you make them wrong. Now I hardly ever think of it; but I can't go on doing things after you've said they are wrong, because that would be wrong of me, don't you see? And yet it wasn't a bit wrong of me before I knew. I hate you!" "I say, Betty, I'm awfully sorry lo have riled you; but you asked me."