number of pictures and brackets, and photograph frames in the plush of that period. Everything was very neat and nice, and there was a notable absence of inharmonious or obtrusive shades.
"How on earth did you open the door from over there?" asked Jan.
"Lazy-pull," said Carpenter, showing off a cord running round three little walls and ending in a tassel at his elbow. "You can buy 'em all ready at Blunt's."
"You have got fettled up," remarked Jan, "and no mistake!"
Carpenter opened his eyes at the uncouth participle.
"I want to have a good study," he said. "I've one or two pictures to put up yet, and I've a good mind to do them now."
"You wouldn't like to come for a walk instead?"
The suggestion was very shyly made, and as candidly considered by Chips Carpenter.
"Shall I?" he asked himself aloud.
"You might as well," said Jan without pressing it.
"I'm not sure that I mightn't."
And off they went, but not with linked arms, or even very close together; for Chips still seemed annoyed at something or other, and for once not in a mood to talk about it or anything else. It was very unlike him; and a small boy is not unlike himself very long. They took the road under the study windows, left the last of the little town behind them, dipped into a wooded hollow, and followed a couple far ahead over a stile and along a right-of-way through the fields; and in the fields, bathed in a mellow mist, and as yet but thinly dusted with the gold of autumn, Carpenter found his tongue. He expatiated on this new-found freedom, this intoxicating licence to roam where one would within bounds of time
