othing else to do----"

"Is that the reason?"

"I like to be with you----"

"Really, monsieur! And you think it was not necessary to consult my
wishes?"

"Don't you like to be with me?" he asked, so naively that the girl blushed
and bit her lip and shook the reins without replying.

They jogged on through the disused byway, the filbert bushes brushing axle
and traces; but presently the little donkey relapsed into a walk again,
and the girl, who had counted on that procedure when she started from
Sainte Lesse, did not urge him.

"Also," she said in a low voice, "I have been wondering who permits you to
address me as Carillonnette. Also as Maryette. You have been, heretofore,
quite correct in assuming that mademoiselle is the proper form of
address."

"I was so glad to see you," he said, so simply that she flushed again and
offered no further comment.

For a long while she let him do the talking, which was perfectly agreeable
to him. He talked on every subject he could think of, frankly practicing
idioms on her, pleased with his own fluency and his progress in French.

After a while she said, looking around at him with a curiosity quite
friendly:

"Tell me, Monsieur Burley, _why_ did you desire to come with me today?"

He started to reply, but checked himself, looking into the dark blue and
engaging eyes. After a moment the engaging eyes became brilliantly
serious.

"Tell me," she repeated. "Is it because there were some rumours last
evening concerning Nivelle?"

"Wee!"

"Oh," she nodded, thoughtfully.

After driving for a little while in silence she looked around at him with
an expression on her face which altered it exquisitely.

"Thank you, my friend," she murmured.... "And if you wish to call me
Carillonnette--do so."

"I do want to. And my name's Jack.... If you don't mind."

Her eyes were fixed on her donkey's ears.

"Djack," she repeated, musingly. "Jacques--Djack--it's the same, isn't
it--Djack?"

He turned red and she laughed at him, no longer afraid.

"Listen, my friend," she said, "it is _tres beau_--what have you done."

"Vooz etes tray belle----"

"_Non!_ Please stop! It is not a question of me----"

"Vooz etes tray chick----"

"Stop, Djack! That is not good manners! No! I was merely saying that--you
have done something very nice. Which is quite true. You heard rumours that
Nivelle had become unsafe. People whispered last evening--something about
the danger of a salient being