ink that tea at the
Tower heavy last week, nor the ghosts in the mess-room of the Blues.
Lady Goldthred's an old friend of mine, and it was very kind of her to
ask us. Besides, Dick's coming down in the barouche."

Maud's face brightened, and be sure, Dick saw it brighten.

"That accounts for it," said she, with the rare smile in her eyes;
"and he thinks we sha'n't let him smoke, so he sulks beforehand, grim,
grave, and silent as a ghost. Mr. Stanmore, cheer up. You may smoke
the whole way down. _I'll_ give you leave."

"Nonsense, my dear," observed Aunt Agatha sternly. "He don't want
to do anything of the kind. What have you been about, Maud, all
the morning? I looked for you everywhere to help me with the
visiting-list."

"Puckers and I took a 'constitutional,'" answered Miss Bruce
unblushingly. "We wanted to do some shopping." But her dark eyes stole
towards Dick, and, although his never met them, she felt satisfied he
had witnessed her interview with Tom Ryfe in the Square gardens.

"I saw you both coming in, Miss Bruce," said Dick, breaking the
awkward pause which succeeded Maud's mis-statement. "I think Puckers
wears twice as smart a bonnet as yours. I hope you are not offended."

Again that smile from the dark eyes. Dick felt, and perhaps she meant
him to feel, that he had lost nothing in her good opinion by ignoring
even to herself that which she wished to keep unknown.

"I think you've very little taste in bonnets, whatever you may have in
faces," answered the young lady; "and I think I shall go and put one
on now that will make you eat your words humbly when I appear in it on
the lawn at Lady Goldthred's."

"I have no doubt there won't be a dry eye in the place," answered
Dick, looking after her, as she left the room, with undisguised
admiration in his honest face--with something warmer and sweeter than
admiration creeping and gathering about his heart.

So they all went down together in the barouche, Dick sitting with his
back to the horses, and gazing his fill on the young beauty opposite,
looking so cool and fair in her fresh summer draperies, so thoroughly
in keeping with the light and sparkle of everything around--the
brilliant sunshine, the spring foliage, the varying scenery, even to
the varnish and glitter of the well-appointed carriage, and the plated
harness on the horses.

Aunt Agatha conversed but sparingly. She was occupied with the phantom
pages of her banker's book; with the shortcom