"Stop!" cries Bobby from the bottom, with a diabolical chuckle. "I think
you observed just now that I looked a fool last night! perhaps you will
not mind trying how it feels!"

So saying, he seizes the ladder--a light and short one--and makes off
with it. I cry, "Bobby! Bobby!" suppressedly, several times, but I need
hardly say that my appeal is addressed to deaf ears. I remain sitting on
the wall-top, trying to look as if I did not mind, while grave
misgivings possess my soul as to the extent of strong boot and ankle
that my unusual situation leaves visible. Once the desperate idea of
jumping presents itself to my mind, but the ground looks so distant, and
the height so great, that my heart fails me.

From my watch-tower I trace the progress of Sir Roger between the
fruit-trees. As yet, he has not seen me. Perhaps he will turn into
another walk, and leave the garden by an opposite door, I remaining
undiscovered. No! he is coming toward me. He is walking slowly along, a
cigar in his mouth, and his eyes on the ground, evidently in deep
meditation. Perhaps he will pass me without looking up. Nearer and
nearer he comes, I hold my breath, and sit as still as stone, when, as
ill-luck will have it, just as he is approaching quite close to me,
utterly innocent of my proximity, a nasty, teasing tickle visits my
nose, and I sneeze loudly and irrepressibly. Atcha! atcha! He starts,
and not perceiving at first whence comes the unexpected sound, looks
about him in a bewildered way. Then his eyes turn toward the wall. Hope
and fear are alike at an end. I am discovered. Like Angelina, I--

....'"stand confessed,
A maid in all my charms."