g against her father's shoulder, as he looked over the proofs of
"The Life of Shakespeare" on which Cousin Louis had worked too hard. "Then
I'll know I am certain to find you sometime."

Her father's arm had drawn her close,--she liked to recall it now, and
how, when she added, "But I wish I had Celia and Touchstone to go with
me," he had answered, "You are certain to find pleasant people in the
Forest of Arden, little girl." And putting aside the proofs, he had talked
to her of her grandmother and the old town of Friendship.

She had been almost a week in Friendship now, and--well, things were not
altogether as she had pictured them. Silver locks and lace caps,
arm-chairs and some sort of fluffy knitting work, had been a part of her
idea of a grandmother, and lo! her own grandmother was erect and slender,
with not a thread of gray in her dark hair, nor a line in her handsome
face.

She was kind--oh, yes, but so sad in her heavy crepe. Aunt Genevieve in
her trailing gowns was charming to behold, but no more company for
Rosalind--at least not much more--than the griffins. Miss Herbert was not
a merry, comfortable person like their own Mrs. Browne at home. The house
was very quiet. The garden was beautiful, but she longed to be outside its
tall iron gates; and she longed--how she longed--for her old companions!

Cousin Louis had given her her favorite story in a binding of soft
leather, delicious to hold against one's cheek, and her father had added a
copy of the beautiful miniature. With these treasures she had set out upon
her journey. But she had begun to feel as if in the great Forest she had
lost her way, when the friendly face of the magician reassured her.

The sound of sweeping draperies broke in upon her thoughts. It was Aunt
Genevieve, and she had not learned her hymn. Picking up her book, she
stole swiftly across the grass till she was hidden by some tall shrubbery.
Before her was a high hedge of privet; beyond it, among the trees, the
chimneys of a red brick house.

Walking back and forth, Rosalind began to study in earnest. Looking first
at her book and then up at the blue sky, she repeated:--

"'Lo! such the child whose early feet
The paths of peace have trod.
Whose secret heart with influence sweet
Is upward drawn to God.'"

CHAPTER SECOND.

ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE.

"Give me leave to speak my mind."

There was another garden on the other side of the hed