When Lilias let the branches go, however, with self-denial which was impulsive though so true, the sweep with which they came together again made more sound than could have been made by a rabbit or squirrel, and startled the Squire, who was quite hot and excited in his new sport. He came to himself with a start, and with the idea of having been seen, felt a pang of shame and half-anger. He looked round him and could see nobody; but the branches still vibrated as if some one had been there; and his very forehead, weather-beaten as it was, flushed red with the idea of having been seen, perhaps by Randolph himself. This gave him a kind of offence and resentment and self-assertion which mended matters. Why should he care for Randolph? What had Randolph to do with it? Was he to put himself under tutelage, and conform to the tastes of a fellow like that, a parson, an interloper? But all the same this possibility stopped the Squire. “There, my little man,” he said with some confusion, dropping his stone, “there! I think it is time to stop now.” “Oh!--was it some one come for you?” said Nello, following the direction of the old gentleman’s eyes. “Stay a little longer, just a little longer. Can’t you do just what you please--not like me----” “Can you not do what you please, my little boy?” The Squire was a little tremulous with the unusual exertion. Perhaps it was time to stop. He stooped down to lave his hand in the water where it came shallow among the rocks, and that act took away his breath still more, and made him glad to pause a moment before he went away. “It is a shame,” said Nello, “there is Lily, and there is Martuccia, and there is Mary,--they think I am too little to take care of myself; but I am not too little--I can do a great many things that they can’t do. But come to-morrow, won’t you _try_ to come to-morrow?” said the child, coming close up to his grandfather, and taking hold of the skirt of his coat. “Oh please, please _try_ to come! I never have any one to play with, and it has been such fun. Say you will come! Don’t you think you could come if you were to _try_?” The Squire burst out into a broken laugh. It would have been more easy to cry, but that does not do for a man. He put his soft old tremulous hand upon the boy’s head. “Little Johnny,” he said, “little Johnny!--that was my little brother’s name, long, long ago.” “Did he play with you? I wish I had a little brother. I have nothing but girls,” said Nello. “But say you will come to-morrow--do say you will try!”