Mortimer promptly dispelled that illusion.

"She doesn't want to," he responded, gloomily.

In other details, however, Miss Lily Bell was of an engaging sweetness
and of a yielding disposition of the utmost correctness. Again and
again Raymond Mortimer succeeded in convincing her, by the force and
eloquence of his arguments, of the superiority of his ideas on fort
building, fishing, and other occupations which filled the day. Miss
Greene's heart yearned over the boy as he came to her during the mid-
day heat and cuddled down comfortably by her side, heavy-eyed and
tired after his exertions.

"Where's Lily Bell?" she asked, brushing his damp hair off his
forehead and wondering whether she was also privileged to enjoy the
unseen presence of the guest of honor.

"She's back there under the tree takin' a nap," murmured the boy,
drowsily, indicating the exact spot with a grimy little hand. "She
tol' me to come an' stay with you for a while."

Miss Greene smiled, deeply touched by this sweet mingling of coyness
and thoughtfulness on the maiden's part.

"What does Lily Bell call you?" she asked, with interest. The boy
snuggled down on the grass beside her and rested his head comfortably
in her lap.

"She knows my name's Raymond Mortimer," he said, sleepily, "but she
calls me 'Bill' for short." Then, more sleepily, "I asked her to," he