revealed the beautiful ruin of a steep old bridge, with the fragments of a
gate-house on the farther side.

'Oh, Milly darling!' I exclaimed, 'what a beautiful drawing this would
make! I should so like to make a sketch of it.'

'So it would. _Make_ a picture--_do_!--here's a stone that's pure and flat
to sit upon, and you look very tired. Do make it, and I'll sit by you.'

'Yes, Milly, I _am_ tired, a little, and I _will_ sit down; but we must
wait for another day to make the picture, for we have neither pencil
nor paper. But it is much too pretty to be lost; so let us come again
to-morrow.'

'To-morrow be hanged! you'll do it to-day, bury-me-wick, but you _shall_;
I'm wearying to see you make a picture, and I'll fetch your conundrums out
o' your drawer, for do't you shall.'




CHAPTER XXXIV

_ZAMIEL_


It was all vain my remonstrating. She vowed that by crossing the
stepping-stones close by she could, by a short cut, reach the house, and
return with my pencils and block-book in a quarter of an hour. Away then,
with many a jump and fling, scampered Milly's queer white stockings and