door into that plot of ground attached to it which matched that in which Bessie Meggison was seated. That particular plot of ground did not boast any of the adornments of the Meggison garden; it was simply a stretch of bare earth, with scrubby grass growing here and there in patches. Gilbert thought nothing of that, because the place did not interest him, save for the fact that it adjoined the garden next door; and he had already learned that in that[46] garden only was the Princess of Arcadia Street to be approached, if one did it delicately. Accordingly he stole up to the dividing wall now, and peered over it; and so, of course, saw that hopeless figure in the moonlight, leaning over the old table. [46] As he had never seen her save with that demure brightness upon her that seemed to belong to her, he was naturally shocked at this sudden abandonment; besides, she looked pathetic indeed in her utter loneliness in that place. He called softly to her over the wall. "Hullo! I say—what's the matter?" He called so softly that she did not hear him, nor did she change her position. After a moment of hesitation, he glanced first at the back of the house he had left, and then at the back of the other one; swung himself up to the top of the wall; and jumped over. He alighted, as luck would have it, on that defective board in the old box set under the wall; swore softly to himself, and stepped down to the ground. The noise he made had startled the girl; she got quickly to her feet, and moved away from him. "I'm dreadfully sorry," he began, smiling at her. But she waved him back hurriedly. "Mr. Byfield!" she said in a whisper, with a glance at the house. "Oh, please—you must go back!—you must really go back!" "If anyone comes, I can jump over in a moment," he said. "There's nothing to be afraid of—and this is ever so much better than talking over the wall, you know. By the way," he added ruefully, "I'm afraid I've broken your—your ottoman." [47] [47] "It doesn't matter," she said in a dull voice—"and it isn't an ottoman. It's an old box." "I don't believe it," he exclaimed. "It's an ottoman—and a very nice one at that."
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