Louie sat for a while, sucking at a lump of sugar she had swept that morning into the _omnium gatherum_ of her pocket. At last she took up a little stone and threw it across at David. 'What's yor silly old secret about, then?' 'Where's my book, then?' replied David, holding up the boat and looking with one eye shut along the keel. 'Iv I gie it yer, an yor secret ain't wo'th it, I'll put soom o' that watter down yor neckhole,' said Louie, nodding towards the place. 'If yo don't happen to find yorsel in th' pan fust,' remarked David unmoved. Louie sucked at her sugar a little longer, with her hands round her knees. She had thrown off her hat, and the May sun struck full on her hair, on the glossy brilliance of it, and the natural curls round the temples which disguised a high and narrow brow. She no longer wore her hair loose. In passionate emulation of Annie Wigson, she had it plaited behind, and had begged an end of blue ribbon of Mrs. Wigson to tie it with, so that the beautiful arch of the head showed more plainly than before, while the black eyes and brows seemed to have gained in splendour and effectiveness, from their simpler and severer setting. One could see, too, the length of the small neck and of the thin falling shoulders. It was a face now which made many a stranger in the Clough End streets stop and look backward after meeting it. Not so much because of its beauty, for it was still too thin and starved-looking for beauty, as because of a singular daring and brilliance, a sense of wild and yet conscious power it left behind it. The child had grown a great piece in the last year, so that her knees were hardly decently covered by the last year's cotton frock she wore, and her brown sticks of arms were far beyond her sleeves. David had looked at her once or twice lately with a new kind of scrutiny. He decided that she was a 'rum-looking' creature, not the least like anybody else's sister, and on the whole his raw impression was that she was plain. 'How'll I know yo'll not cheat?' she said at last, getting up and surveying him with her arms akimbo. 'Can't tell, I'm sure,' was all David vouchsafed. 'Yo mum find out.' Louie studied him threateningly. 'Weel, I'd be even wi yo soomhow,' was her final conclusion; and disappearing through the ruined doorway, she ran down the slope to where one of the great mill-stones lay hidden in the heather, and diving into its central hole, produced the book, keenly watched the while by David, who took mental note of the hiding-place. 'Naw then,' she said, walking up to him with her hands behind her and the book in them, 'tell me yor secret.' David first forcibly abstracted the book and made believe to box her ears, then went back to his seat and his boat. 'Go on, can't yo!' exclaimed Louie, after a minute, stamping at him. David laid down his boat deliberately.