"I'm Humphrey Duncombe," he answered, seating himself by her side. "Who are you?"
"I'm Mrs. Colville's sister," she answered, smiling. "I suppose you don't remember me, but I have seen you before, at your grandmother's, at Banleigh. I live close by."
"I wonder if you could keep a secret?" said Humphrey eagerly.
"Yes, dear, I think so; but why? Have you got one to tell me?"
"A very great one. I've never had one before, and I don't like it at all. I must tell some one, or else I shall be telling it to father, you know."
"But why not tell your father? Surely he would be the best person."
"Tell father! Mrs. Colville's sister? Why, he's just the very person who isn't to know."
"Mrs. Colville's sister" had been half afraid she was going to be made the confidante of some boyish escapade which the child had concealed from his father; but Humphrey's open face disarmed suspicion, and she listened attentively while he poured forth his tale.
It was necessary to listen attentively, for, in the first place, Humphrey was in such a hurry to get to his point, that he rather slurred over the necessary explanations; and, in the second place, he insisted on whispering it all in her ear, on account of the presence of the children.