Master and Maid

rising bell rang at seven, and turned over and went to sleep again, only to be awakened by another bell, equally loud, an hour later.This time Lallie sat up in bed, pushed

ge?" the voice asked again.Cripps looked up in the direction of the voice and leapt to his feet. Sherlock Holmes fell neglected on the grass.Lallie was leaning out of the window just above him."I beg your pardon," he exclaimed politely; "I didn't know you were there.""Naturally, for you were asleep. Now how comes it that you were falling asleep in the middle of the morning? That's what I want to know. Are you stopping with T--with Mr. Bevan too?"Cripps longed to pose as a visitor, but honesty, like many worse things, is sometimes hereditary, so he hung his head and mumbled dismally:"No, I'm one of the chaps; but I'm in quarantine--for mumps of all beastly silly diseases. I know I shan't have it, too.""Poor boy," said Lallie sympathetically, "I hope you won't. I've had it, and it's horrible. Paddy brought it back from here once and gave it to me. It seems to me that the boys in this house are always having something.""We don't have half as many things as the other houses," Cripps retorted indignantly, "and I haven't got it, it's my beastly little sister----""Now that's not nice of you," said Lallie reprovingly, "to speak of the poor little girl like that; no mortal could want mumps. But I don't think I can keep bawling to you from here. I'll come down if you can ferret out another chair--not a mumpy one, mind--and I'll try and bring you to a more Christian frame of mind."She vanished from the window and Cripps flew to the summer house to fetch one of Tony's most luxurious garden chairs, feeling that for once the fates had not dealt unkindly with him when they put him in quarantine.Across the lawn towards him came Lallie, swinging a green silk bag."Do you like your feet up?" asked the gallant Cripps. "There's a piece that pulls out.""Thank you--it would be a pity to waste these shoes, wouldn't it?"And Lallie subsided into a long chair which supported her very pretty feet, shod in shiny shoes with buckles and Louis Quinze heels. From the green silk bag she drew forth a roll, which proved to be lace, and she began to sew diligently."What pretty work!" said Cripps, drawing up his chair to face hers."It's a strip of Limerick lace I'm making, and I've just got to a 'basket.' The light's good, so I thought I'd do it this morning.""May I see it close?" asked Cripps, wishing she would look at him instead of at her lace, though black eyelashes resting on rounded cheeks are by no means a disagreeable prospect.This morning Lallie was not so pale. Her cheeks were never really rosy, but they were fresh, with a delicate, fault colour like the inside of certain shells. She held out the roll of work towards Cripps, and he took hold of one end while she unpinned the other and spread out the lace."By Jove!" said Cripps, but it was not at the lace he was looking so much as at Lallie's hand. Such an absurd small hand compared to his; so white, with beautiful pink filbert-shaped nails."It's pretty, isn't it?" said Lallie, of her lace."Awfully," said Cripps. "Whatever size do you take?""How d'you mean? You don't make lace in sizes.""I beg your pardon, I was thinking of your hands. Look at them--compared to mine!""Now don't you be reproaching me with being so little. It's no fault of mine nor no wish; I've done my best to grow, but it's no use. I'm the only little person in a tall family, and it's very out-of-date for a girl to be small nowadays. I'm a sort of survival of the obsolete, and if I live to be old, I'll be looked upon as a sort of rarity, and people will come miles to see me.""I should think people do that now," said Cripps, still keeping tight hold of the lace.Lallie let go her end of it and looked at him."Now that's very kind of you to say that--really kind and nice. I wonder if all your family are exceptionally good-looking, because, if so, perhaps you can sympathise with me. Are they?""Well, no, I don't think they are," Cripps said, getting very red. "I really have never thought about it; one doesn't, you know, with one's own people.""You'd have to if you were like me," Lallie sighed. "Dad is tremendously good-looking; so's Paddy--don't you think so?""Ye-e-e-s," Cripps answered, without enthusiasm, "I suppose he is; but one doesn't notice that sort of thing much in fellows----""I think it's their noses that make them so distinguished," Lallie continued meditatively. "Dad's and Paddy's, I mean. Now, my nose begins well, it does really--but it changes its character half way; and it's got a confiding tip, and that isn't in the least distinguished. My only consolation is, it isn't often red.""I think it's an extremely neat nose," Cripps said, with convincing sincerity."Neat, but not gaudy! Ah, well, it's the best I've got, anyway, and I can smell anything burning in the kitchen quicker than most people. But all the same, I think it must be very agreeable to be so good-looking that people want to please you just because of it, without you doing anything at all. That's the way with Dad and Paddy. Now ordinary folks like you and me--I hope you don't mind rowing in the same boat with me?--have to be nice to people if we want them to like us.""Is Paddy Clonmell your brother?""My twin brother, but we're not a bit alike, even in disposition, though we're the best of friends and I adore him. What are you celebrated for, and I'll see if I can't tell you your name; I've heard about mos