He set to work to plan his beds, and one afternoon was busy marking off spaces with wooden pegs and a long line of cord.  After working some time he came to the end of his pegs, and was annoyed to find that he had not enough to finish the particular figure he was planning.  He did not like to drop his line to go for more pegs, as he feared his work was not secure enough, and would fall astray if the string was not held taut till the end should be properly secured.

Just as he looked around impatiently, not knowing what to do, he saw Hetty coming along the path above him, walking slowly and reading.  She was very often reduced to the necessity of taking a story-book as companion of her leisure hours, now that Mark would have nothing to do with her.  This afternoon Phyllis and Nell were out driving with their mother, and Miss Davis had seized the opportunity to write letters.  Hetty was therefore thrown on her own resources and was roaming about with a book.  She would have rushed away to Mrs. Kane’s at once, but she knew that this was John Kane’s dinner hour.  But half an hour hence she would set off for the village, and have a nice long chat with her foster-mother.

Hetty descended the winding path with her eyes on her book, and before she saw him, nearly stumbled against Mark.

“Do you mean to walk over a fellow?” said Mark in an aggrieved tone.

“Oh, Mark, I beg your pardon.  I did not know you were here.  Now,” she added, looking round wistfully, “if you wouldn’t be cross with me what a nice time we could have working at your garden together.”

“If you weren’t disagreeable, I suppose you mean.  Well, yes, we could.  But you see we’re not friends.”

“And you won’t, won’t be?” said Hetty anxiously.

“Well, look here, if you hold this string for me a bit I’ll think about it.  My pegs are shaky until the string is fastened up tight, and I can’t drop it, and I must go to the stable-yard for some more pegs.  If you hold this string till I come back, perhaps I will forgive you.”

“Oh yes, I will hold it,” said Hetty; and down went her book on the grass, and she took the cord and held it as Mark directed.

“Be sure to keep steady till I come back,” he said; “and you mustn’t mind if I am kept a little while.  I may have to look for Jack, who has the key of the storehouse where the pegs are kept.”

And off he went.

When he got to the stable-yard he met a groom who was coming to look for him, saying that his father wanted him to go out riding.  Mr. Enderby was already in the saddle, and Mark’s pony was waiting beside him at the door.  Mark, who loved a ride, especially in company with his father, at once vaulted on the pony’s back and was soon trotting out of the gates, laughing and chatting with his papa.  He had completely forgotten Hetty, and the pegs, and the cord that had to be held taut till he should come back.

In the meantime Hetty was standing just where he had left her, looking in the direction from which he was to return.  A quarter of an hour passed, and her finger and thumb, which held the string exactly as Mark had directed, were a little stiff.  Another quarter passed, and lest the cord should relax she changed it from one hand to the other.