the agony was past.

George unharnessed them; dressed the wounds; scolded the coachman
because no feed had been brought for the horses; promised that to-
morrow he would bring some corn--bun corn.

"Will you come to-morrow?" Angela asked.

George glanced at Mary. "Yes," he told them.

"Every to-morrow?"

"Every to-morrow."

Tremendous joy. Well delighted, they ran to a new game.

Every to-morrow ran but to three: George and Mary had by then
exchanged their histories. The pending examination was discussed, and
Mary simply would not speak to him if, wasting his time, he came daily
to idle with the children (so she expressed it). She would abandon the
Park, she told him--would take her charges to a Square gardens of
which they had the entry, where George might not follow.

George did not press the point. As he wrestled out the matter in the
hours between their meetings she was a fresh incentive to work. But
once a week he must be allowed to come: here he was adamant, and she
gladly agreeable. Saturday mornings was the time arranged.

Mary had been fearful at this first re-encounter that it would be the
last. The children would certainly tell their mother; Mrs. Chater