‘And where is its nest?’ Between the earth and the sky is vague. But then to be sure it must want a good deal of room. And after all, a mountain is a strange fowl, and who knows where it might lay? Between earth and sky is quite definite enough? Besides, the bird-nesting boys might be dangerous if they knew where it was. It would be such a find for them!’ My champion was defeated. Without attempting a word in reply, he hung back and dropped behind. Mr Coningham must have heard the whole, but he offered no remark. I saw that Charley’s sensitive nature was hurt, and my heart was sore for him. ‘That’s too bad of you, Clara,’ I said. ‘What’s too bad of me, Wilfrid?’ she returned. I hesitated a moment, then answered-- ‘To make game of such verses. Any one with half a soul must see they were fine.’ ‘Very wrong of you, indeed, my dear,’ said Mr Coningham from behind, in a voice that sounded as if he were smothering a laugh; but when I looked round, his face was grave. ‘Then I suppose that half soul I haven’t got,’ returned Clara. ‘Oh! I didn’t mean that,’ I said, lamely enough. ‘But there’s no logic in that kind of thing, you know.’ ‘You see, papa,’ said Clara, ‘what you are accountable for. Why didn’t you make them teach me logic?’ Her father smiled a pleased smile. His daughter’s naiveté would in his eyes make up for any lack of logic. ‘Mr Osborne,’ continued Clara, turning back, ‘I beg your pardon. I am a woman, and you men don’t allow us to learn logic. But at the same time you must confess you were making a bad use of yours. You know it was all nonsense you were trying to pass off on me for wisdom.’ He was by her side the instant she spoke to him. A smile grew upon his face; I could see it growing, just as you see the sun growing behind a cloud. In a moment it broke out in radiance. ‘I confess,’ he said. ‘I thought you were too hard on Wilfrid; and he hadn’t anything at hand to say for himself.’ ‘And you were too hard upon me, weren’t you? Two to one is not fair play--is it now?’ ‘No; certainly not.’ ‘And that justified a little false play on my part?’ ‘No, it did _not_,’ said Charley, almost fiercely. ‘Nothing justifies false play.’ ‘Not even yours, Mr Osborne?’ replied Clara, with a stately coldness quite marvellous in one so young; and leaving him, she came again to my side. I peeped at Mr Coningham, curious to see how he regarded all this wrangling with his daughter. He appeared at once amused and satisfied. Clara’s face was in a glow, clearly of anger at the discourteous manner in which Charley had spoken. ‘You mustn’t be angry with Charley, Clara,’ I said. ‘He is very rude,’ she replied indignantly. ‘What he said was rude, I allow, but Charley himself is anything but rude. I haven’t looked at him, but I am certain he is miserable about it already.’ ‘So he ought to be. To speak like that to a lady, when her very friendliness put her off her guard! I never was treated so in all my life.’