very sorry, Harry, if I have offended you," she said, as she drew near the spot.

Harry started. "Maud, Maud, what shall I do?" he said, impulsively, turning towards her and taking her hand.

Maud was only a year younger than himself, but she could not help feeling alarmed at his words.

"What is the matter?" she said. "Prithee, tell me all about what is troubling you."

But Harry shook his head, and tried to smile away her fears. "I have been wishing to be a chicken, and by my faith I do wish it too," he said.

"Marry, that is an old wish of mine," said Maud, trying to smile, but looking down as the colour stole into her cheeks.

"You wish to be a chicken!" uttered Harry in astonishment. "By my troth, I did not think you were so foolish, Maud."

"And wherefore not, wise sir? since you would nathless enter chickenhood."

But instead of replying in the same gay, bantering tone, Harry sighed deeply, and, still holding her hand, drew her into the field.

"It is quite true, Maud," he said. "I was actually wishing to be a chicken, or anything but what I am—Harry Drury, of Hayslope Grange."

"Prithee, now tell me wherefore you wished this," said Maud.

Harry had always told her his secrets since she first came, a little delicate girl, to live at the Grange.

"Now, marry, I can scarcely do that. But life is such a puzzle—such a tangle—men seem to be put in the wrong places."

"And you think you have one of the wrong places?" said Maud.

Harry nodded. "I am beginning to feel sure of it," he said, sadly.

"Then put yourself in the right place," said Maud, quickly, without in the least knowing to what he referred.

"By my faith, I cannot," he said, huskily.

"Cannot?" she uttered. "Cannot do right? Be truthful and just—true to yourself. Harry, you cannot mean you are afraid to do this?"

She thought she knew what was passing in his mind. He had been away from home for several weeks, in London and in the North, and she thought he longed to 

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