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"Viewed transversely, about in the
centre of your back," replied Miles.
"Oh!" It was a shuddering exclamation this time, and it went to his heart. She whisked about, and—"Won't you please—please!" she stammered.
He stepped gallantly to the rescue, secured the enemy between thumb and forefinger, and tossed him into the brook. Bistre trotted after to investigate.
"Thank you," said the girl. "I—I'm so glad you saw it!"
"So am I," answered Miles, enthusiastically.
"I can't bear caterpillars," she continued, with a shudder. "They're so—so creepy!"
"They are," responded Miles. He'd have agreed to anything, I think. He rescued the brush from the inter-
