There was a sound as of a chair being pushed back, and a rustle which suggested the hasty laying aside of a manuscript, and Robin's voice said-- "Come away, Philly!" (This is a favourite Scoticism of Robin's, and appears to be a term denoting hearty welcome.) There was a delighted squeal and the sound of pattering feet. Next ensued a period of rather audible osculation, and then there was silence. Presently Phillis said-- "What shall we do? Shall I sing you a hymn?" Evidently the revels were about to commence. "I have just learned a new one," she continued. "I heared it in Church yesterday afternoon, so I brought it home and changed it a bit. It's called 'Onward, Chwistian Sailors!'" "'_Soldiers_,' isn't it?" "No--'_Sailors_.' It _was_ 'Soldiers,' but I like sailors much better than soldiers, so I changed it. I'll sing it now." "Wait till Sunday," said Robin, with much presence of mind. "Will you not tell me a story?" This idea appeared so good that Phillis began forthwith. "Once there were three horses what lived in a stable. Two was wise and one was just a foolish young horse. There was some wolves what lived quite near the stable----" "Wolves?" said my secretary, in tones of mild surprise. "The stable," explained Phillis, "stood in the midst of the snowy plains of Muscovy. I should have telled you that before." "Just so," said Robin gravely. "Go on." "Well, one day," continued the narratress's voice through the curtains--I knew the story by heart, so I was able to fill up the gaps for myself when she dropped to a confidential whisper--"one cold, windy, berleak day, the old wolves said to the young ones, 'How about a meal of meat?' and all the young one's said, 'Oh, _let's_!' "That very morning," continued Phillis in the impressive bass which she reserves for the most exciting parts of her narrative, "that _very_ morning the foolish young horse said to the old horses, 'Who is for a scamper to-day?' Then he began to wiggle and wiggle at his halter. The old horses said, 'There is wolves outside, and our master says that they eat all sheep an' cattle an' horses,' But the young horse just wiggled and wiggled,"--I could hear my daughter suiting the action to the word upon her audience's knee,--"and pwesently his halter was off! Then out he rushed, kicking up the nimble snow with his feathery heels, and--what?" Robin, who was automatically murmuring something about transferred epithets, apologised for this pedantic lapse, and the tale proceeded. "Well, just as he was goin' to have one more scamper, he felt a growl--a awful, fearful, deep _growl_,"--Phillis's voice sank to a bloodcurdling and continuous gurgle--"and he terrembled, like this! I'll show you----" She slipped off Robin's knee, and I knew that she was now on the hearth-rug, simulating acute palsy for his benefit.