r you dislike Mr. Juxon very much, or else I think you take a
good deal upon yourself in remarking--in this way--"

She was naturally a little timid, but John's youth and what she
considered as his extraordinary presumption inspired her with courage to
protest. The effect upon John was instantaneous.

"Pray forgive me," he said humbly, "I am very silly. I daresay you are
quite right and I do not like Mr. Juxon. Not that I have the smallest
reason for not liking him," he continued quickly, "it is a mere personal
antipathy, a mere idea, I daresay--very foolish of me."

"It is very foolish to take unreasonable dislikes to people one knows
nothing about," she said quietly. "Will you please open the gate?" They
were standing before the bars, but John was so much disturbed in mind
that he stood still, quite forgetting to raise the long iron latch.

"Dear me--I beg your pardon--I cannot imagine what I was thinking of," he
said, making the most idiotic excuse current in English idiom.

"Nor I," said Mrs. Goddard, with a little laugh, as he held the gate back
for her to pass. It was a plain white gate with stone pillars, and there
was no gatehouse. People who came to the Hall were expected to open it
for themselves. Mrs. Goddard was so much amused at John's absence of mind
that her good humour returned, and he felt that since that object was
attained he no longer regretted his folly in the least. The cloud that
had darkened the horizon of his romance had passed quickly away, and once
more he said inwardly that he was enjoying the happiest days of his life.
If for a moment the image of Mr. Juxon entered the field of his
imaginative vision in the act of pushing Mrs. Goddard's chair upon the
ice, he mentally ejaculated "bother the squire!" as he had done upon the
previous night, and soon forgot all about him. The way through the park
was long, the morning was delightful and Mrs. Goddard did not seem to be
in a hurry.

"I wish the winter would last for ever," he said presently.

"So do I," answered his companion, "it is the pleasantest time of the
year. One does not feel that nature is dead because one is sure she will
very soon be alive again."

"That is a charming idea," said John, "one might make a good subject of
it."

"It is a little old, perhaps. I think I have heard it before--have not
you?"

"All good ideas are old. The older the better," said John confidently.
Mrs. Goddard could not resist the temptation of teazi