outstretched. But Dilly Joyce forestalled the parson. She, too came
forward, in her quick way, and took Elvin firmly by the arm.

"Here, dear," she said, caressingly, "you come along out-doors with
us!"

Elvin turned, still hanging his head, and the three (for little Molly
had come up on the other side, trying to stand very tall to show her
championship) walked out of the hall together. Dilly had ever a quick
eye for green, growing things, and she remembered a little corner of
the enclosure, where one lone elm-tree stood above a bank. Thither she
led him, with an assured step; and when they had reached the shadow,
she drew him forward, and said, still tenderly,--

"There, dear, you set right down here an' think it over. We'll stay
with ye. We'll never forsake ye, will we, Molly?"

Molly, who did not know what it was all about, had no need to know.
"Never!" she said, stanchly.

The three sat down there; and first the slow minutes, and then the
hours, went by. It had not been long before some one found out where
they were, and curious groups began to wander past, always in silence,
but eying them intently. Elvin sat with his head bent, looking fixedly
at a root of plantain; but Molly confronted the alien faces with a
haughty challenging stare, while her cheeks painted themselves ever a
deeper red. Dilly leaned happily back against the elm trunk, and dwelt
upon the fleece-hung sky; and her black eyes grew still calmer and more
content. She looked as if she had learned what things are lovely and of
good repute. When the town-clock struck noon, she brought forth their