“His face is like stone and he’s beckoning,” she whispered. “Oh, come along, Renny”--and she dragged me out of the grassy yard and never stopped hurrying me on till we reached the meadows. Here her gayety returned to her, and she felt at home among the flowers at once. Presently we wandered into a grassy covert against a hedge on the further side of which a road ran, and threw ourselves among the “sauce alone” and wild parsley that grew there. Zyp was in one of her softest moods and my young heart fluttered within me. She leaned over me as I sat and talked to me in a low voice, with her fair young brow gone into wrinkles of thoughtfulness. “Renny, what’s love that they talk about?” I laughed and no doubt blushed. “I mean,” she said, “is it blue eyes and golden hair or brown eyes and brown hair? Don’t be silly, little boy, till you know what I mean.” “Well, what do you mean, Zyp?” “I want to know, that’s all. Renny, do you remember my asking to kiss and be friends that day we first met, and your refusing?” “Yes, Zyp,” I stammered. “You may kiss me now, if you like,” and she let herself drop into my arms, as I sat there, and turned up her pretty cheek to my mouth. My blood surged in my ears. I was half-frightened, but all with a delicious guilt upon me. I bent hastily and touched the soft pink curve with my trembling lips. She lay quite still a moment, then sat up and gently drew away from me. “No,” she said, “that isn’t it. Shall I ever know, I wonder?” “Know what, Zyp?” “Never mind, for I shan’t tell you. There, I didn’t mean to be rude,” and she stroked the sleeve of my jacket caressingly. By and by she said: “I wonder if you will suffer, Renny, poor boy? I would save you all if I could, for you’re the best of them, I believe.” Her very words were so inexplicable to me that I could only sit and stare at her. I have construed them since, with a knife through my heart for every letter. As we were sitting silent a little space, steps sounded down the road and voices with them. They were of two men, who stopped suddenly, as they came over against us, hidden behind the hedge, as if to clinch some argument, but we had already recognized the contrary tones of my father and Dr. Crackenthorpe. “Now, harkee!” the doctor was saying; “that’s well and good, but I’m not to be baffled forever and a day, Mr. Ralph Trender. What does it all amount to? You’ve got something hidden up your sleeve and I want to know what it is.” “Is that all?” My father spoke in a set, deep manner. “That’s all, and enough.” “Then, look up my sleeve, Dr. Crackenthorpe--if you can.” “I don’t propose to look. I suggest that you just shake it, when no doubt the you-know-whats will come tumbling out.” “And if I refuse?” “There are laws, my friend, laws--iniquitous, if you like; but, for what they are, they don’t recognize the purse on the highway as the property of him that picks it up.” “And how are you going to set these laws in motion?”