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comes they’ll be acclimatized. Your basin is too deep for freezing. Let’s set them free by all means. I don’t like waiting, do you?’ he addressed Robin.

‘No;—but not if the fish will catch cold,’ Robin said, apprehensive yet trustful, and Ingpen, on his way to the house, replied: ‘I understand fish. They won’t catch cold.’

‘He looks as if he understood, doesn’t he, Grannie?’ said Robin,when Ingpen had disappeared.

‘It will be nicer than waiting for spring, won’t it? And you know we might be dead before spring.’ Robin certainly had an anxious mind. Monica smiled reassurance at him as she answered: ‘We might, though it’s not likely; I’m so strong and you’re so young.—But it will be much nicer not to wait.—Oh, see!—Isn’t it lovely, Robin!’ A jet of silver had leaped high into the air.

‘There. That’s better, isn’t it?’ said Ingpen. He came from the house carrying the globe of goldfish in his hands and stood beside them to look. The slender silver lance wavered and sprang against the blue and in the basin the water crept higher and higher, reflecting sky and cloud. Robin stood in an astonishment of gladness and over his uplifted face the eyes of Monica and Ingpen met in a look of peace