"You little toad of a monkey!—giving me this hunt! How came you to run away?"
The words were spoken by a tall, handsome boy, quite old compared with me, who had come dashing through the dingle. He caught up the child and began kissing her fondly. So the words were not meant to hurt her.
"It was oo ran away, Tom."
"But I ordered you to stop where I left you—and to sit still till I came back again. If you run away by yourself in the wood, you'll meet a great bear some day and he'll eat you up. Mind that, Miss Blanche. The mamsie is in a fine way; thinks you're lost, you silly little thing."
"Dat 'towslip ball for me, Tom."
Master Tom condescended to turn his attention upon me and the ball. I guessed now who they were: a family named Heriot, who had recently come to live at the pretty white cottage on the other side the copse. Tom was looking at me with his fine dark eyes.
"You are the parson's son, I take it, youngster. I saw you in the parson's pew on Sunday with an old woman."
"She is not an old woman," I said, jealous for Leah.
"A young one, then. What's your name?"
"Charles Strange."