"I promise," said Olive, wonderingly. "But why not?"

"It is of great value, for one thing, and--But there--there are many
reasons. For one thing it is my duty to get it for you."

"Wouldn't you like to jump down for it?" she asked mischievously.
"Listen."

She stooped for a stone and dropped it down.

"Fancy being where that is now," she said, peering into the blackness;
"fancy going round and round like a mouse in a pail, clutching at the
slimy sides, with the water filling your mouth, and looking up to the
little patch of sky above."

"You had better come in," said Benson, very quietly. "You are developing
a taste for the morbid and horrible."

The girl turned, and taking his arm walked slowly in the direction of the
house; Mrs. Benson, who was sitting in the porch, rose to receive them.

"You shouldn't have kept her out so long," she said chidingly. "Where
have you been?"

"Sitting on the well," said Olive, smiling, "discussing our future."

"I don't believe that place is healthy," said Mrs. Benson, emphatically.
"I really think it might be filled in, Jem."

"All right," said her son, slowly. "Pity it wasn't filled in long ago."