"Horrors found one in his boot," said Garth.
"How like Horrors!" remarked his father. "What did he do?"
"Oh, it was in the dark—he had put on one boot and was looking about for the other with his foot. But he couldn't find it, so he got matches and lit a candle. And there was his boot with a big snake in it!"
"Did he kill it?"
"No; he says he can't kill snakes 'cause it gives him the cold shudders. But he yelled, and Mr. Gordon came and killed it. And another time Mr. Gordon found one in his bed!"
"Ugh!" shuddered Aileen.
"He was going to bed, and he thought it looked lumpy, so he turned down the clothes, and there was old Mr. Snake coiled up, as happy as possible. Wouldn't he have felt funny if he'd gone to bed as usual and put his toes on him? I bet he'd have hopped!"
But the vision of the hopping Mr. Gordon was too much for Aileen, who declined to talk of snakes any more—much to the disappointment of her son, who had evidently learned many more stories from Horrors, and burned to impart them.
"I don't see why you don't like talking about snakes," he said, aggrieved. "I think they're jolly things to talk about. And so does Horrors. I wonder who that is?"
They were crossing a paddock towards a little lane that ran down to the water's edge; and riding along this, with reins loose on the neck of an old grey horse, was a girl. As they drew nearer she stopped, looking at them curiously—a curiosity which their glances echoed, for they had never before seen any one quite like her.