rk
was on the verandah also, when the little mistress of
Chickaree come forth to be mounted; and for the occasion the
red squirrel went back to the old grave punctilio of manner he
could assume when he pleased.

That was all the surrounding pairs of eyes could see; a grave
deference, a skilful care in performance of his duties as Wych
Hazel's squire. But to her, out of ken of all but herself,
there was an expression of somewhat else; in every touch and
movement and look, an indescribable something, which even to
her inexperience said: 'Every bit of your little person, and
everything that concerns it, is precious to me.' Not one man
in many could have so shewn it to her, and hidden it from the
bystanders. It was a bit of cool generalship. Then he threw
himself on his own horse, like the red squirrel he was, and
they moved off slowly together.

Well, she was not a vain girl, having quite too much of a tide
in her fancies, notions and purposes to be stopping to think
of herself all the while. So, though Rollo's manner did make
her shy, it stirred up no self-consciousness. For
understanding may sleep, while instincts are awake. It was
very pleasant to be liked, and if she wondered a little why he
should like her--for Miss Kennedy was certainly not blind to
some of her own wayward imperfections--still, perhaps the
wonder made it all the pleasanter. She was not in the least
inclined to take people's attentions in any but the simplest
way (if only they were not flung at her by the basketful); and
in short had no loose tinder, as yet, lying round to catch
fire. Perhaps that says the whole. So she was about as grave
and as gay, as timid and as bold, by turns, as if she had been
seven years old.

'I promised you a canter,' said her companion, taking hold of
her bridle to draw the grey aside from a bad place in the
road. 'Next time you shall have a gallop--so soon as I can find
what will do for you. Never mind for to-day.'

'You think this most respectable horse could so far forget
himself as to canter?'

'Try.'

And away they went, with that elastic, flying spring through
the air which bids spirits bound as well, and leaves care
nowhere. For the old grey had paces, if his jollity was
somewhat abated; and Vixen went provokingly, minding her
business like one who thought she had better. Nevertheless it
was a good canter.

'You will be a good rider,' said Rollo, when at length they
subsided to a trot, stretching out h