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THE TOLL OF THE BUSH
CH.

‘A likely thing,’ said Mrs. Gird, ‘that you should tire me.’

‘I am rather nice,’ the young man admitted.

‘Heavens!’ exclaimed the lady, with a laugh; ‘what a gift of repartee. Why this abnormal cheerfulness? You are rather silent as a rule, Geoffrey.’

‘That is so,’ the young man admitted, and gave aninstance. ‘Spell oh!’ he called presently. ‘Time for a wedge.’

The wedge was inserted. Then came another spell of sawing, followed by more wedges; then more sawing and a vigorous driving with the maul, and presently down came the tree.

‘Splendid!’ Mrs. Gird exclaimed. ‘Just where I wanted it to fall.’

‘Beautiful!’ agreed Geoffrey; ‘but do you notice the undignified attitude of your fowl-house ?’

‘Weil, I never!’ said the lady, astonished.

‘I did,’ said Geoffrey; ‘that’s how I knew. I once blew a tent away in precisely the same fashion.’

‘You might have told me!’

‘Pardon me, if you reflect a moment, I think you will do me the justice to admit that I did.’

‘You certainly said that the fowl-house would not be there.’

‘Precisely,’ said Geoffrey triumphantly; ‘and the facts have borne me out.’

Mrs. Gird gazed at him with a severity which the twinkle in her eyes belied. ‘Go,’ she said, ‘and put it back where it was.’

‘I am afraid that is barely possible, but we might be able to make it pretty comfortable where it is.’

This proved to be so, and the fowl-house was re-erected not much the worse for the indignity to

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