ll, and he said the same. By and by I began to count. When I
had got up to five hundred, and still he hadn't spoken, I knew I should
certainly burst if nothing happened before a thousand.

"Well?" he murmured at last in an isolated way.

"Five hundred and eighty-six," I counted aloud inadvertently.

"Eh?" said he.

"I was just seeing how many I should have to count before you spoke."

"H'm! I'm afraid you do find me a dull companion after all your latest
acquisitions. But what can I do? In a way I'm your guardian temporarily.
I can't let you run about the country alone with hordes of young men. I
may seem selfish; but I have done my best for you since other and
younger knights came upon the field."

"That _is_ hypocritical!" I flung at him. "You shed me on others because
you like the society of a grown-up woman better than mine; and then you
pretend you're doing it for my sake. I _like_ that!"

"I thought you would like it. That's why I did it."

"Not because you wanted to talk to Mrs. West?"

"Oh, of course I like talking to her. Don't you like talking to her
brother, and all that drove of boys?"

"Why--yes, I like talking to them well enough, but----"

"But what?"

"You ought to _know_, without telling."

"I don't know. Are we playing at cross purposes?"

"How can I tell, if you can't?"

"How can I, if you _won't_?"

"Oh, don't let's argue about nothing! Let's be happy--perfectly happy."

"In other words, if milk has been spilt, don't water it with salt tears,
but leave it to collect cream."

"Yes. Why doesn't everybody treat spilt milk like that?"

"It doesn't occur to poor worried humanity. It wouldn't occur to me in
other society--Princess."

"Thank you, Sir Knight." I couldn't resist nestling my shoulder closer
to his in joy and gratitude: and then an odd thing happened. A tiny
shock of electricity seemed to flash through his shoulder to mine. I
never felt anything like it before. It made my heart stop and afterward
beat fast. I had to talk of something irrelevant in a hurry, so I
grabbed at Burns: and indeed we ought not even for a minute to have
talked of any other subject on this road, which we were exploring only
because of Burns. Not that the high road between Kilmarnock and Dumfries
wouldn't be worth seeing if Burns had never set foot on it, and if no
other great ones had passed that way. It would be worth travelling for
itself alone, for every mile has its own special beauty. And the