appeared to afford him a peculiar satisfaction. For the first
time the frown left his brow and his tone lost its insolent
contempt. Then he came forward suddenly and laid his hand upon
the gate. "Well, I can't waste my morning," he said. "You'd
better run back home and play the piano. I'm off."

"I don't play the piano--I'm not a girl," declared the boy; "and
what I want is to get you to train my hounds for me. I'd like to
go hunting with you to-day."

"Oh, I can't be bothered with babies," sneered Christopher in
reply. "You'd fall down, most likely, and scratch your knees on
the briers, and then you'd run straight home to blab to
Fletcher."

"I won't!" cried Will angrily. "I'll never blab. He'd be too mad,
I tell you, if he found it out."

"Well, I don't want you anyhow, so get out of my way. You'd
better look sharp after your pups or the hounds will chew them
up."

The boy stood midway of the road, kicking the dust impatiently
ahead of him. His lips quivered with disappointment, and the
expression gave them a singularly wistful beauty. "I'll give you
all my pocket money if you'll take me with you," he pleaded
suddenly, stretching out a handful of silver.

With a snarl Christopher pushed his arm roughly aside. "Put up
your money, you fool," he said; "I don't want it."