to him the moment we met.

"I could run with you to the top of the hill!" he answered.

"I don't think you could," I returned. Perhaps I leaned a little toward
him; I do not know. He put his arm round me.

"You are not able to stand," he said. "Shall we sit a moment?"




CHAPTER XIV.


MOTHER AND UNCLE.

I was glad enough to sink on a clump of white clover. He stretched
himself on the heather, a little way from me. Silence followed. He was
giving me time to recover myself. As soon, therefore, as I was able, it
was my part to speak.

"Where is your horse?" I asked. The first word is generally one hardly
worth saying.

"I left him at a little farmhouse, about a mile from here. I was afraid
to bring him farther, lest my mother should learn where I had been. She
takes pains to know."

"Then will she not find out?"