filled up at the most inconvenient time; don't--"

He stopped suddenly, for the little girl was convulsed with laughter.
She laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks, and then she dried
her eyes and laughed again.

"Excuse me," she said; "I can't help myself; it's so funny."

"It may be funny to you," he said, laughing in spite of himself; "but it
is not funny to me."

"Of course it isn't," she replied, making a desperate effort to be
serious. "Well, tell me something more about these tuners."

"Not another word," he said, gallantly. "I am ashamed of myself as it
is. Come to the end of the garden, and let me show you the view down
into the valley."

She had conquered her fit of merriment, but her face wore a settled look
of mischief, and she was evidently the possessor of some secret joke.
She seemed in capital health and spirits, and had so much to say that
was bright and interesting that Oswald Everard found himself becoming
reconciled to the whole race of tuners. He was amazed to learn that she
had walked all the way from Z----, and quite alone, too.

"Oh, I don't think anything of that," she said; "I had a splendid time,
and I caught four rare butterflies. I would not have missed those for
anything. As for the going about by myself, that is a second nature.
Besides, I do not belong to any one. That has its advantages, and I
suppose its disadvantages; but at present I have only discovered the