another crackle; I turned and beheld a luminous eye between the
branches. Whether I turned pale with fright or not, I cannot tell;
but a hand came forth, a foot, then, with considerable difficulty,
an entire body; and on the path before me stood my dishevelled
friend, covered with green dust and blushes.

"I have no excuse to offer," said he.

I laughed; there was nothing else to do.

"You did startle me," said I, "but I forgive you."

I did not ask him what he was doing in my shrubbery, nor did he
offer the least explanation.

"Are you going for a walk?" said he, simply, "and, if so, may I go
with you?"

I was glad enough, and we had taken a few steps forward when he
suddenly clapped his hands to his pockets.

"I shall have to get into the bush again," he cried, with rueful
face; "I must have dropped 'Peer Gynt.'"

And in he scrambled, returning triumphant with an exceedingly shabby
book.

We walked a full hour and a half, through the park, through the
woods, and through the park again, for he insisted on bringing me
back to the little blue door. We talked mostly about "Peer Gynt,"