silky creature was already contentedly nibbling the tender cabbage leaves so plentifully provided for their repast. To excite Pat by inviting him to put his nose through the wire netting was the only interest in that quarter, and as the dog sensibly refused to respond, there was nothing for it but to go further afield.

For about half an hour Julius watched the cleaning of the great sixty-horse-power car, amusing himself by executing a series of deafening hoots upon the motor horn to the distraction of the chauffeur, who had learnt only too well that to remonstrate only meant a prolongation of the din.

From the garage to the stables was the next move, and the order was given to saddle the new pony.

"I'm going to take Prince over those hurdles again," Julius remarked as John led the beautiful animal out of its stall. "You'd better come to the field to set them up for me."

"The vet said as how Prince had been too hard set at them last time, sir, seeing as he strained his off foreleg a bit," replied the groom, "and the master he told me he didn't wish the pony to jump again for a while, though he was all right for a quiet ride."

"What's the fun of a pony that can't jump?" exclaimed the boy impatiently. "I don't want to walk about the roads as if I was at a funeral. I won't ride at all if I can't try the hurdles, so you may take the stupid beast away."

"There's Red Rover, sir, if you want another horse. I'll saddle him in a jiffey, and he's a rare one at a gallop, even though he's not so light at the fences as Prince."

Julius eyed the smart little cob that had been his favourite mount till the new-comer arrived upon the scene, and felt half inclined to follow the friendly advice. But after all, what was the good of going for a gallop when there was nowhere special to gallop to, and no one to gallop with except John, who was apt to be surly if you went too fast? So he shook his head.

"I don't want Red Rover," he said. "They're a rotten lot, all of them. I'll get father to give me a stronger pony next time, that won't strain its silly old legs by jumping over a footstool."

Turning his back upon the stable yard he made his way slowly into the lane.

"I wish the new tutor was here," he said to himself, "even old Finney would be better than nobody. I think I'll go to Timothy Green's cottage and see how far the cliff has broken away. Father seemed to think it was going pretty fast. I wonder if some day the house will really topple over on to the beach."

With some definite purpose at length in his mind, Julius hurried down the track which led through the copse to the sea. The trees thinned as he neared the cliff, those that were left, standing out gaunt and weather-beaten by the storms which broke upon them so fiercely from the east.

A rough fence enclosing a patch of ground marked the boundary of the small domain which had so excited the wrath of Mr. Field. The cottage lay end on to the sea, its low door facing the south. Hardy flowers bloomed within the little plot, but Julius remarked with surprise that the wall, on the further side of the garden had disappeared since he had last walked that way.

Passing the rickety gate that gave entrance from the lane, he crept cautiously to the edge of the cliff and peeped down.

CHAPTER II

Forbidden Fruit

Far below lay the debris of the crag not yet carried away by the waves which now crept sleepily along the shore. Harmless, gentle ripples they looked that day, softly crooning a lullaby to the pebbles on the beach; very different to the angry guise in which they appeared on winter nights, when the mighty hissing billows came leaping up the cliff like hungry tongues, seeking to lick out the very foundations of the land. Many a great slice had they already snatched away. Acre after acre of fair cornfield and forest had once stood where now the ocean rolled, and every year fresh portions of the fruitful earth disappeared beneath the irresistible onslaught of the foe.

North and south as far as eye could reach, Julius could trace the long rampart of cliff facing the wide expanse of water. In the distance a lonely church stood perched upon the edge, a mere deserted shell, with ruined tower and roofless nave, of which the greater part had long since fallen into the sea. Sole relic it remained of the prosperous city which once in bygone years had clustered round its walls.

As Julius withdrew his gaze from the distant prospect to the nearer one at his feet, he noticed the effects of the last storm on his humble neighbour's property.

A large hawthorn hung head downward, its roots holding on like claws in the crumbling crag, while bits of broken garden fence still clung in untidy festoons over yawning gaps along the upper portion of the cliff. Fragments of bricks and boards were scattered upon the shore below, waiting in disorderly confusion for the waves to finish their handiwork and bury them out of sight. Only a foot or two of solid ground remained between the sea end of the dwelling and the top of the landslip. Already great cracks were making themselves seen in the cottage walls, showing the gradual subsidence of the soil beneath.

"I wonder old Timothy dares to stay in his house when any moment a lump of earth may break away," said the boy to himself. "What a lot has gone since I was here last! I remember there used to be a pigsty here in the spring, but I suppose that's it lying in pieces on the shore. I wonder if the pig was in it when it went down."

As he meditated upon this possible tragedy the door of the house opened and two people came out. Julius at once recognized them as the stranger lady and her little son, whom he had met before and been cautioned to avoid. He crouched down behind a sheltering bush until they should pass by.

"She's got rather a nice face," he murmured, "and the boy's not half bad, in spite of all father says against them."

It was no wonder that the lonely child looked with longing eyes upon the pair. Others as well as he had found comfort in the calm sweetness which rested as the habitual expression on Madelaine Power's fair features. As she turned at the porch to wave farewell to old Timothy, the honeysuckle made a fitting frame to her tall, graceful figure, clad in the simple black gown which tells the story of widowhood to the world.

Julius watched her as she walked down the path towards the gate, her eyes full of mother-love as she met the eager upturned gaze of the curly-headed child at her side, and a sharp pang of jealousy shot through his heart, leaving a sore feeling behind.

"It's a perfect beauty, mother!" the boy was saying. "I think it was just awfully good of Timothy to give it to me."

Julius noticed that the lad was carrying something beneath his jacket, carefully pressed against his chest--something that moved, for it needed both hands and arms to hold it safe.

"We'll have to make a little house for it, Robin," answered his mother. "I'm afraid it will feel rather strange at first, poor creature, in its unaccustomed quarters."

"I wonder what