Again he lingered about me, as if he had something more to say, and
could not take courage to say it. This time the strangeness of his
manner aroused my curiosity, and I asked him if he had anything
particular to say to me.

'You must be quick, Peter, whatever it is,' I said; 'for I am in a
great hurry to get back to Miss Darrell.'

'There is something I want to say, miss,' he answered, twisting his
ragged straw hat round and round in his bony hands, in a nervous
way,--'something I should like to say, but I'm naught but a poor
fondy, and don't know how to begin. Only you've been very good to
Peter, you see, miss, sending wine and such things when I was ill,
and I ain't afeard o' you, as I am o' some folks.'

'The wine was not mine, Peter. Be quick, please; tell me what you
want to say.'

'I can't come to it very easy, miss. It's something awful-like to
tell on.'

'Something awful?'

The boy had looked round him with a cautious glance, and was now
standing close to me, with his light blue eyes fixed upon my face in
a very earnest way.

'Speak out, Peter,' I said; 'you needn't be afraid of me.'

'It happened when I was ill, you see, miss, and I've sometimes