There was a girl lying in a hammock close by. That girl was Robina. She had been fast asleep. The day was hot, and she was tired from much exercise, for Mr Durrant's parties never did let the grass grow under their feet. But she awoke now to find that Harriet and Jane were standing a few feet away. Her impulse was to say, "I am here." The next moment, she would have uttered the words, but, hearing her own name spoken, arrested the speech that was on her lips. She did not know why, but a swift and horrible temptation came over her. She bent a little forward, and, unperceived by the two who were standing two or three feet off, could hear every word that was spoken. "You will never tell," began Harriet. "No, no," said Jane, a trifle impatiently; "if I wanted to begin to tell all the things you have confided in me, I'd have a pretty bad time of it. You know you have always plotted and planned against Robina. Well, what did you do against her that day?" "The only thing I could do, and that was not much. You know all about the gipsies, and my following Ralph and bringing him home and my real sorrow, and my giving Ralph up to Robina; and you know how Robina won the pony?" "Yes," said Jane; "I know that story, I am perfectly sick of it," she added. "Well, that story has somehow come to an end, but another story has begun. It is this: I will tell you what really did happen. I was, oh! in such a rage; and I wouldn't ride the horrid donkey, and you all went off without me, only Ralph--he stayed." "He is a dear little boy," said Jane. "He did not want to stay, I can tell you; but he could not stand the thought of your being left all alone, so he asked his father if he might stay, and Mr Durrant said, `Of course.' Mr Durrant never makes much of people being self-sacrificing; he seems to think it only right. Well, anyhow, he stayed." "He did," said Harriet. "In some ways he was rather a little nuisance. He talked to me and I talked to him; and he--he--told me that he loved Robina the best." The girl in the hammock gave a quick catch in her breath, then a sigh of relief, but too faint to reach the girls who were talking eagerly in the shrubbery below. "He said he loved her best; and you know that sort of little chap," said Harriet, "he never, never could tell a lie--that is quite outside his category." "Oh quite, dear little man!" said Jane. "Well, I wanted some water-lilies; and what do you think? I tried to pull some, but I couldn't, and he--he crept along a bough. I could have prevented him, but I didn't, for a thought got into my head." "What was that?" "I knew quite well that if he crept along that bough--that willow bough that hangs over the round pond, that it wouldn't hold his weight, and that he would fall in." "You knew it!" said Jane, gasping, "and you let him do it?"