“'What hollow oak? I don't know any hollow oak.' “'Perhaps it was the Royal Oak?' said Bobby promptly, 'cos he saw he had made a slip, through trusting too much to the rotten book; but this didn't seem to make the fellow any happier.” “Should think not,” I said, “the Royal Oak's an awful low sort of pub.” “I know,” said Edward. “Well, at last the fellow said, 'I think I know what she means: the hollow tree in your father's paddock. It happens to be an elm, but she wouldn't know the difference. All right: say I'll be there.' Bobby hung about a bit, for he hadn't got his money. 'She was crying awfully,' he said. Then he got his shilling.” “And wasn't the fellow riled,” I inquired, “when he got to the place and found nothing?” “He found Bobby,” said Edward, indignantly. “Young Ferris was a gentleman, every inch of him. He brought the fellow another message from Bella: 'I dare not leave the house. My cruel parents immure me closely If you only knew what I suffer. Your broken-hearted Bella.' Out of the same rotten book. This made the fellow a little suspicious, 'cos it was the old Ferrises who had been keen about the thing all through: the fellow, you see, had tin.” “But what's that got to--” I began again. “Oh, _I_ dunno,” said Edward, impatiently. “I'm telling you just what Bobby told me. He got suspicious, anyhow, but he couldn't exactly call Bella's brother a liar, so Bobby escaped for the time. But when he was in a hole next week, over a stiff French exercise, and tried the same sort of game on his sister, she was too sharp for him, and he got caught out. Somehow women seem more mistrustful than men. They're so beastly suspicious by nature, you know.” “_I_ know,” said I. “But did the two--the fellow and the sister--make it up afterwards?” “I don't remember about that,” replied Edward, indifferently; “but Bobby got packed off to school a whole year earlier than his people meant to send him,--which was just what he wanted. So you see it all came right in the end!” I was trying to puzzle out the moral of this story--it was evidently meant to contain one somewhere--when a flood of golden lamplight mingled with the moon rays on the lawn, and Aunt Maria and the new curate strolled out on the grass below us, and took the direction of a garden seat that was backed by a dense laurel shrubbery reaching round in a half-circle to the house. Edward mediated moodily. “If we only knew what they were talking about,” said he, “you'd soon see whether I was right or not. Look here! Let's send the kid down by the porch to reconnoitre!” “Harold's asleep,” I said; “it seems rather a shame--” “Oh, rot!” said my brother; “he's the youngest, and he's got to do as he's told!”