her, with not
quite so rigid an interpretation of idleness as Daisy, for she had
brought absolutely nothing with her to occupy her hands or her mind,
whereas he had a daily paper.

"Not a word or a sigh or a sneeze, Miss Daisy," he said, in a whisper,
"or we shall be discovered. Not brought anything whatever with you?
That's right. Just you yourself."

"You forget my parasol," said Daisy, "and it really isn't an
insignificant affair."

"I know it isn't. I don't like it. It hides too much of you."

Daisy laughed.

"I suppose that means I have to put it down," she said.

"Well, I think it would be kind of you," he said. "You've been hiding
yourself too much lately to my mind."

Daisy could not let this pass.

"Well, I like that," she said. "You threw me over all yesterday, which
you said you were going to spend down here; you arrived with Aunt
Jeannie in the middle of dinner, and played five thousand up with her
afterwards."

"Yes, and when I do hope to catch a glimpse of you you hide yourself
under a scarlet umbrella," he said. "That's better; thanks awfully."

Daisy furled the big umbrella, and threw it down on the grass. For the
moment her mind was absolutely at peace again, and went back with a
tremulous sense of happiness to the mood of the ball, so few evenings
ago. And as she faced him, she thought again that it was a different
man from the one she had known, and again saw that the difference was
in herself.

"We had a great discussion, Mrs. Halton and I," he went on, "when we
were sitting like wayside flowers near Ealing yesterday, as to whether
people were nicer in the country or in town. I wonder which of us you
will agree with."

"Oh, with Aunt Jeannie, I expect," said Daisy, not without challenge in
her voice.

"H'm. That's a nasty one for me. Well, let's put it to the proof,
anyhow. We agreed that some people are nicer in town and others in the
country, but there we parted company."

"Ah, don't tell me," said Daisy. "Let me think."

She plucked a long grass stem and drew it through her teeth.

"The people one really likes and loves are nicer in the country," she
said at length. "The people who just amuse you are nicer in town."

"Hurrah!" said he. "That's first-rate! It's what I said myself. Mrs.
Halton wouldn't have any of that. She says that she herself is so much
nicer in town that she refused to accept such a classification. Else it
would mean that none of us liked her. But she stu