y; probably until she gets tired of
me. And there," she added, "are the stables, where no doubt you will find
your faithful Pepper."

They had come out upon an elevation above the hard service drive, and
across it, below them, was the coach house with its clock-tower and
weather-vane, and its two wings, enclosing a paved court where a
whistling stable-boy was washing a carriage. Austen regarded this scene
an instant, and glanced back at her profile. It was expressionless.

"Might I not linger--a few minutes?" he asked.

Her lips parted slightly in a smile, and she turned her head. How
wonderfully, he thought, it was poised upon her shoulders.

"I haven't been very hospitable, have I?" she said. But then, you seemed
in such a hurry to go, didn't you? You were walking so fast when I met
you that you quite frightened me."

"Was I?" asked Austen, in surprise.

She laughed.

"You looked as if you were ready to charge somebody. But this isn't a
very nice place--to linger, and if you really will stay awhile," said
Victoria, "we might walk over to the dairy, where that model protege of
yours, Eben Fitch, whom you once threatened with corporal chastisement if
he fell from grace, is engaged. I know he will be glad to see you."

Austen laughed as he caught up with her. She was already halfway across
the road.

"Do you always beat people if they do wrong?" she asked.

"It was Eben who requested it, if I remember rightly," he said.
"Fortunately, the trial has not yet arrived. Your methods," he added,
"seem to be more successful with Eben."

They went down the grassy slope with its groups of half-grown trees;
through an orchard shot with slanting, yellow sunlight,--the golden
fruit, harvested by the morning winds, littering the ground; and then by
a gate into a dimpled, emerald pasture slope where the Guernseys were
feeding along a water run. They spoke of trivial things that found no
place in Austen's memory, and at times, upon one pretext or another, he
fell behind a little that he might feast his eyes upon her.

Eben was not at the dairy, and Austen betraying no undue curiosity as to
his whereabouts, they walked on up the slopes, and still upward towards
the crest of the range of hills that marked the course of the Blue. He
did not allow his mind to dwell upon this new footing they were on, but
clung to it. Before, in those delicious moments with her, seemingly
pilfered from the angry gods, the sense of intimacy had