“Where do you go to school?” he asked.  “How old are you? how far have you got in arithmetic? fractions?  So am I!  Hate ’em? so do I!  Play base-ball?”

“No!” said Hugh.

“Isn’t there a nine here?”

“Nine?” Hugh turned this over in his mind.  “I only know of three at Roseholme.  One is carved ivory, carved all over with dragons, and of course one could not play with that; and there are two cricket balls that the Colonel had when he was a boy, and he says I may play with those some day, when I know enough not to break windows.  Perhaps you have learned that, if you are used to having nine balls.”

The stranger stared again, with a look in which despair was dawning.  “You must be loony!” he muttered.  And then, aloud, “Can’t you play anything?  What can you do?”

“I can run,” said Hugh, after another pause of reflection, “and swim, of course, and box a little, and fence.”

“Fence!” said Black-eyes; his voice took a more respectful tone.  “Where did you learn to fence?  You’re too young, aren’t you?”

“I am nine!” said Hugh.  “I began to learn two years ago, and I have outgrown my first foil, and the Colonel has given me a new one, almost full size.”

“Who’s the Colonel?”

“Colonel Ferrers, the gentleman I live with.  My great-aunt is his housekeeper; and he is my dearest friend, except my Beloved and her mother and my great-aunt.”

“Who is your Beloved?  What makes you talk so funny?”

The black-eyed boy no longer spoke scornfully, the fencing having made a deep impression on him, but he looked more puzzled than ever.

“How do I talk?” asked Hugh, in return.  “This is the way I do talk, you see.  And my Beloved is Miss Grahame, and that is what you have to call her; but I call her my Beloved, because she is that; and she is the most beautiful—­”

But here the young gentleman was interrupted; there was a hasty putting aside of the branches, and Hildegarde, with pink cheeks and a guilty conscience, stood before the two boys.  They both jumped up at once, having good manners; but Hugh’s rising was calm and leisurely, while the black-eyed lad scrambled to his feet, and darted swift looks here and there, preparing for flight.

“How do you do?” said Hildegarde, coming forward quickly and holding out her hand.  “You are not going, are you?  I think you must be one of our new neighbours, and we ought to make acquaintance, oughtn’t we?”

The boy smiled, a little quick, frightened smile, “just the way a bird would do if it could,” Hildegarde thought, and laid a small brown paw timidly in hers.

“This is my Beloved!” said Hugh, by way of introduction.  “So you can see for yourself.”

“And am I not to hear my neighbour’s name?” asked Hildegarde.

“I am Will Merryweather,” said the black-eyed boy.

“I am very glad to see you, Will.  I hope you and Hugh will be friends, for it is so nice to have friends of one’s own age, and Hugh has no one.  You, of course, have brothers and sisters, and that is the best of all, isn’t it?”