The poor boy, imagining things! "That's want of substantial food. and Mrs. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. And every day's experience proves that I was right. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again. But I shan't let him off thus. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. She could have kissed Cathy. The transverse spars before mentioned were as slippery as ice; and the hollows between them were filled ankle-deep with water. G'night, kids. ‘Poor things.
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