the elm-trees
beyond the rose-garden, and when arrived there to do nothing whatever.
From the other side of the table Lord Lindfield rose at this.

"Jove, Miss Daisy," he said. "I've been wondering since I got up, what's
the matter with me, and now I know it's the need of sitting under a tree
and doing nothing. I'll join your party, if you'll let me. Is talking
allowed?"

"Yes, but nobody need answer. I usually shan't."

Jim Crowfoot got up.

"I'm not sure if I shall come or not," he said. "I think not. I feel
rather inclined for conversation to-day."

"Better not come then, old chap," said Lindfield. "There's not much
conversation usually when I'm with you. I never get a word in. Nor
anybody else."

It was impossible to take offence at even this, so pure and friendly was
the chaff. It may be said to Jim's credit that he did not even attempt
to do so.

"What am I to do, then?" he asked. "I can't converse alone.--Mrs.
Halton, will you talk to me?"

"No, Mrs. Halton's going to write letters all the morning," said
Lindfield. "She told me so."

Just for a second Daisy allowed herself to think "So he already knew
that," but it was but momentary. This mood of drawing inferences from
infinitesimal data in other people's conduct was altogether detestable;
she must not allow herself to do it.

"Yes, I'm going to be a virtuous woman," said Aunt Jeannie.--"Alice
dear, will you get a nice dog-chain and fasten me down to a
writing-table till I swear to you that I have written to everybody who
ever writes to me?"

"If you wish, but if I chain you down you sacrifice the fineness of your
virtue. You make a virtue of necessity."

"No," said Jeannie, "I make a necessity of virtue. I shan't be able to
get up. Or is it the same thing?"

"You're clearly going to make a morning of it," remarked Lindfield.

Jeannie sighed.

"An afternoon as well," she said, "If my recollection of the size of a
certain packet neatly labelled 'Unanswered' is at all correct."

"Shouldn't make a packet of unanswered letters," said Lindfield. "I burn
them. Then you can start afresh."

CHAPTER XV.

The next hour or two had fairly fulfilled the breakfast plans. Daisy,
after the tiger accident to her parasol at the Zoo, had fallen back, for
country use anyhow, on an immense scarlet contadina umbrella, and had
planted herself and this under the elm-tree as soon as breakfast was
over. Almost immediately after Lord Lindfield had followed