of anything else, and lay wide awake whilst Bunny lay sleeping soundly beside him, never a misgiving crossing his mind that it would be practical disobedience to steal out when he was supposed to be fast asleep, and full of longing for the house to be silent so that he could go on his way without fear of molestation.

Should he tell Bunny of his plan?

On the whole he thought not. Bunny was not quite to be relied upon. He had grown very fond of Granny, and talked a great deal to her, and seemed a good deal older, and therefore less to be depended upon on an occasion of this kind. He had not been very responsive earlier in the evening. Perhaps it would be more fun to go alone.

Luckily for Curly, the Priory went early to bed, and soon after ten o'clock the house was quite quiet. There would be no difficulty about getting out undetected, for there was a little garden-door close under their rooms, the bolts of which he could undo himself easily; and when he felt sure of making his escape unmolested, he slipped out of bed, carried his clothes into the next room, and dressing in a great hurry, ran down the stairs, and found himself very soon out in the dewy, fragrant night. Curly looked round him in a sort of delight at the new beauty he saw about him. The moonlight lay softly on flower and tree. The nightingales

were singing, as they seldom sing by day; and there was a sort of mystery and fairy-like loveliness hanging over the sleeping place which gave it a new face, and made him feel almost as if he had got into an enchanted country.

But if the garden was beautiful, the fields attracted him still more-the big meadows where the sleepy cows were lying, who hardly cared to open their soft eyes to look at the little intruder. If the old creatures had not been so lazy, perhaps Curly would have contented himself with his moonlight ramble; but really the impulse to drive them was overpowering, and he thought how nice and comfortable it would be for them to lie in the soft long grass, instead of on that which they had cropped so short already.

It felt so grand, too, to be out all alone, and to have command over all those great placid, docile beasts. There was a gate from this meadow into the one beyond which had been shut up for hay, and with a little trouble and dexterity Curly managed the fastening-there was no lock on the gate— and had set it wide open.

"Now, then, gee up; get along; tumble up and go in," he cried to the nearest cows, who showed very little eagerness to obey him. However, Curly was a determined little fellow, and having made up his mind that the cows were to go in there, and that

they would be much more comfortable for the change, he was not going to be baulked by their laziness; and as soon as he had hounded a few in, the rest got up and followed, and he had the triumphant satisfaction of seeing them all wandering about in the nice long grass, which he thought must taste very nice, and be so very much more comfortable for sleeping on.

"We should think it was wet; but cows don't mind that, I suppose, and they can have one nice meal and good night before anyone comes to turn them out. Poor cows! I do think it is a shame to give them only this short stuff to eat, when they give us such nice milk and butter. And they won't eat so very much in one night, so that even if people are cross they can't say much harm has been done."

And Curly made his way home in leisurely fashion, greatly pleased with his nocturnal ramble and with what he had accomplished.

"I wonder everybody doesn't come out at night, it's so much nicer than by day; but I'm glad, though, they weren't all out to-night, or perhaps they would have seen me. I don't think they are at all kind to the cows. I think they should have the nice soft, long grass to sleep on at night, whatever they have in the day."

No one accosted Curly on his way back to the