paper--sacking--cords--all the odds and ends necessary for packing of any kind.  There were chairs with burst cane seats, and baths needing paint, cans that leaked, and baskets damaged in various ways--these had waited through the war to be mended, and waited still for workers; Mrs. Romilly was a most methodical, tidy person and detested waste.
Besides all this was the old nursery property of "dressing-up" chests--clothes for charades in winter--a rocking-horse, and the dolls’ houses; the thousand-and-one things that belong to a family of children.
Hughie loved it all with a deep and faithful love.  Secretly he played with the dolls’ houses, and set the small china-headed dolls round the loaded tables for their silent meals with affectionate care.  Pamela knew all about these matters, but she was far too loyal to betray the secret.
When she came into this big chamber of treasure trove she stood still and looked round.  The fact that nobody was visible did not convince her that nobody was there.
"Hullo!" she said in a low voice.
"Hullo!" returned a small voice in an absorbed tone.
Pamela crossed the room and looked over a barricade of lumber.  At first sight it seemed that a heavy oak dower chest, topped by a pile of boxes, was set against the wall.  It was not.  Between its bulk and the wall of the attic there existed a narrow space--so narrow that it would not appear possible as a retiring place even for the smallest boy.Pamela looked over--as has been stated--and dropped a small paper bag.  
"I brought you some chocolates," she said.  
"Thanks," murmured Hughie in a slow drawl. Squeezed between the chest and the wall he was absorbed in most intricate stitchery. On his knee was set a cardboard box full of bits and scraps--both white and coloured--wee spars, small lengths of catgut, bits of fine wire. Also, sitting very upright, two neatly smiling dolls, with bran-stuffed bodies and china heads, dolls about three inches long--the large kind held no attractions for Hughie.  
"How are you getting on, Midget?" asked Pamela with sympathy.  
"It’s rather trying," said the dressmaker, "their arm-sleeves fray out of the holes, and the button-holes are simply fearful. But they must have the things."  
"They’ll look jolly nice when they are finished," said Pamela, "can’t I help you?"  
Hughie rejected help.  
"I’ve made a white ensign for the new boat," he said, nodding towards the tiny flag that lay finished on the box-top.  
"Ripping!" exclaimed Pamela, picking up the bit of work. It was most beautifully made. Seeing her undoubted admiration Hughie fished out of his coloured heap a fine cord to which were attached a succession of wonderful little flags and burgees in many colours and designs.  
"Signal halyards," he said, "it took me weeks--and 

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