"Harry, lad, what has come to you?" asked the Squire, looking at him. "You were playing better than usual till just now, but your walk round the terrace seems to have destroyed your skill."
"I beg your pardon, Sir," answered Harry, uncomfortably. "I will endeavor to play better."
And he carried out his attempt by placing in imminent peril his last remaining piece.
"Nay, nay," said his father, leaning back in his chair, "'tis no use going on, lad. Did you see a ghost on the terrace?"
"I did not, Sir, I assure you," returned Harry.
"Well, I wonder what is the matter with you," said the Squire. "Here, Lucy, come and let me see if you can do any better."
Lucy took her brother's vacated seat.
"Celia," said Harry, a quarter of an hour afterwards, turning to her, "would you mind bringing your needle and thread up-stairs? I want you to help me with something which I cannot well bring here."
"Oh yes, Harry, I will come with you," answered Celia, re-threading her needle, and following Harry out of the room with it in her hand.
Harry led her up-stairs, motioned her into her own room, and, much to her surprise, locked the door, and pocketed the key.