"Or the Boo-Boos took it." He smiled at her puzzled expression. "Don't you know those dreadful little people--the people who hide one's pencils and one's handkerchiefs, put the clock back so that one misses one's train--or an appointment--and invariably send an organ-grinder outside one's window when one is hard at work and can't bear a noise!" "But why do you call them Boo-Boos?" She might have been a child asking for the explanation of a fairy-tale. "Well, they aren't Brownies, because _they_ are a good little folk. And the Pixies, though their tricks are much the same, pursue their avocations out of doors on moor or hill; so that the only name I could find for them was just that--Boo-Boos!" He laughed at her bewildered face. "Come, Mrs. Rose, don't you ever feel conscious of their teasing presence? Don't you lose your hair-pins, or your brooches, or whatever corresponds to our collar-studs? And have you never noticed how a pen with which you are about to sign an important document, a will or something of the kind, has changed mysteriously into a pencil--generally without a point--when you pick it up?" He had succeeded in his intention. His nonsense had won her to a smile; and the eyes which a few moments before had looked like those of a tortured woman were once again the eyes of a child. "Do you know, Mrs. Rose"--Herrick felt there was danger in prolonging the situation once she had attained a comparative serenity--"I'm afraid it's going to rain! Don't you think we had better be moving homewards?" She rose at once. "Just as you like." She spoke with the utmost docility. "I suppose we had better go. I haven't an umbrella--have you?" "No--and your dress is thin." He looked at her white gown, which had not been improved by her incarceration in the mouldy summer-house, and showed traces of the dust and dirt of the bench on which she had crouched while the two women talked outside. Altogether Toni presented a pathetic little figure; and Herrick felt a sudden desire to know her safely at home, hidden from inquisitive eyes. He called Olga, who had been playing an enticing game of hunting quite imaginary rabbits in the hedgerow; and when the great dog bounded up in obedience to his summons, he jumped over the stile and held out his hand to help Toni. She climbed over rather lifelessly, catching her white skirt on a splinter of wood and tearing a rent which filled Herrick with dismay. "You've torn your pretty dress! What a shame--will it be quite spoilt?" "Oh no, I can mead it," she returned indifferently, "and any way it doesn't matter." To Toni nothing mattered just then. "That wretched splinter was to blame. I'm afraid I didn't notice it," he said contritely. "Oh, it wasn't your fault. Perhaps it was one of your queer creatures, the Boo-Boos," said Toni with a wintry attempt at a smile; and Herrick was struck with the readiness with which she had adopted his whimsical theory.