"I heard father saying that he was very ill indeed. Mother stopped him from saying more when she saw that I was there. I was thinking about him just now. I used to hate him sometimes when he sat in the choir and screamed in my ear. But I'm sorry for him now. I wish I hadn't hated him. Father spoke as if he thought he was going to die." "Couldn't we do something for him?" suggested practical Helen. "I have sixpence," returned Harold, "if that would do." Helen shook her head. "You can't give people money when they are ill. I'll tell you what I might do. I'll ask father if I may gather some strawberries and take them to a sick boy in the village. If you come to-morrow morning directly your lessons are over we might take them together." "It won't do for Agatha to know. I should never hear the end of it. And, besides, she hates poor people." "No one need know. Father never asks any questions. He will just say, 'Do as you like.' He is sure to say nothing." Harold was silent for a moment. A little struggle was going on his mind. He knew that his mother would have disapproved of the project, and that he was never allowed to go near any cottage where sickness was. But he was sorry for Jim Hunt, who had done him many a rough kindness, kindnesses which Harold was conscious of having often ill requited, and he really longed to do the village lad this small service. "Don't you care to come, Harold?" asked Helen in surprised tones. She was a little annoyed that her plan had not immediately approved itself to Harold, never guessing the reason for his hesitation. "I can go by myself if you are afraid of Agatha." "I am not afraid of Agatha, and of course I will go too. The strawberries won't be my present, but I will tell Jim that I will give him the engine I am making now when it is finished. And I say, Helen, we might call it 'Jim,' mightn't we? I daresay that would please him." "I'm sure it would. Then it is settled. I shall be waiting for you in the orchard to-morrow. If we walk fast across the fields we can stay a little while with Jim and get back in plenty of time for lunch." No hitch occurred in the projected arrangements. Mrs. Desmond still kept her room on the following day. Colonel Desmond gladly complied with his little daughter's request, and Helen, basket in hand, was awaiting Harold in the orchard some time before the appointed hour, which, however, passed without bringing him. At last she saw him running across the grass. "How late you are! I began to think you weren't coming," she cried. Harold's face was flushed, and did not wear its best expression. "I came as soon as I could," he said. "Of course, as I was in a hurry everything went wrong. I _hate_ Latin. Why need one learn what one doesn't like? And Agatha--" "Never mind Agatha," interrupted Helen soothingly. "You have come; that is the great thing. Let us start at once. We can talk as we go."