WILLIAMS GETS INTO A SCRAPE. 79

good turn for once. Whe—w! how hot I
am!”

“Yes, Jack!” I cry enthusiastically;
“you're a perfect duck;” and, carried away
by my feelings of gratitude, I fly at him and
give him a hug.

“All right! don’t bother,” says Jack, who
does not appreciate this burst of sisterly
affection, “I thought I might do something
for you, as you didn’t behave altogether
badly about the fishing.”

Having hidden the key safely under a
loose board we once more descend from the
loft, and turning into the dining-room from
the verandah, hear Father storming and
stamping about in the next room.

We pretty well know what is amiss, but
nevertheless think it advisable to ask, and
follow Aunt out for that purpose. In the
halk we find Williams standing twirling his
hat round and round, and looking the
picture of misery.

“T’m sure, sir, I don’t know how it could
a happened. I was just fixing up a branch