In the tale it seemed that a vine shot up and climbed on the shadows of the warm night; and the shadows climbed with it and made a trellis for it right across the sky. The vine thrust through the trellis faster and faster, dividing, throwing out little curls and tendrils; then leaves and millions of leaves, each leaf unfolding about a drop of dew, which trickled and fell and tinkled like a bird’s song. The beauty and scent of the vine distressed him. He wanted to cry out, for it was hiding the sky. Then he heard the tramp of feet in the distance, and knew that they threatened the vine, and with that he wanted to save it. But the feet came nearer and nearer, tramping terribly. He could not bear it. He ran to the stairs, stole down them, opened the front door cautiously, and slipped outside. He was half-way across the square before it occurred to him that the band had ceased to play. Then he wondered why he had come, but he did not go back. He found Honoria standing a little apart from the crowd, with her hands clasped behind her, gazing up at the window of the banqueting-room. She did not see him at once. “Stand on the steps, here,” he whispered, “then you can see him. That’s the Colonel--the man at the end of the table, with the big, grey moustache.” He touched her arm. She sprang away and stamped her foot. “Keep off with you! Who _told_ you?--Oh! you bad boy!” “Nobody. I thought you hated boys who wait to be told.” “And now you’ll get the whooping-cough, and goodness knows what will happen to you, and you needn’t think I’ll be sorry!” “Who wants you to be sorry! As for you,” Taffy went on sturdily, “I think your grandfather might have more sense than to keep you waiting out here in the cold, and giving your cough to the whole town!” “Ha! you do, do you?” It was not the girl who said this. Taffy swung round, and saw an old man staring down on him. There was just light enough to reveal that he had very formidable grey eyes. But Taffy’s blood was up. “Yes, I do,” he said, and wondered at himself. “Ha! Does your father whip you sometimes?” “No, sir.” “I should if you were my boy. I believe in it. Come, Honoria!” The child threw a glance at Taffy as she was led away. He could not be sure whether she took his side or her grandfather’s. That night he had a very queer dream.