lled every evening with noisy
rooks; and, coming round to the front of the house, the girls lingered
beneath the chestnut-trees, and in the rosary, where a little fountain
played when visitors were present, and then stood leaning over the
wooden paling that defended the pleasure-ground from the cows that
grazed in the generous expanse of grass extending up to the trees of the
Lawler domain. Brookfield was therefore without pretensions--it could
hardly be called 'a place'--but, manifolded in dreams past and present,
it extended indefinitely before Alice's eyes, and, absorbed by the sad
sweetness of retrospection, she lingered while Olive ran through the
rosary from the stables and back again, calling to her sister, making
the sunlight ring with her light laughter. She refrained, therefore,
from reminding her that it was here they used to play with Nell, the old
setter, and that it was there they gave bread to the blind beggar; Olive
had no heart for these things, and when she admired the sleek
carriage-horses that had lately been bought to take them to balls and
tennis-parties, Alice thought of the old brown mare that used to take
them for such delightful drives.

Suddenly Mrs. Barton's voice was heard calling. Milord had arrived: they
were to go into the garden and pick a few flowers to make a buttonhole
for him. Olive darted off at once to execute the commission, and soon
returned with a rose set round with stephanotis. The old lord, seated in
the dining-room, in an arm-chair which Mrs. Barton had drawn up to the
window so that he might enjoy the air, sipped his sherry, and Alice, as
she entered the room, heard him say:

'_Quand on aime on est toujours bien portant_.'

She stopped abruptly, and Mrs. Barton, who already suspected her of
secret criticism, whispered, as she glided across the room:

'Now, my dear girl, go and talk to Milord and make yourself agreeable.'

The girl felt she was incapable of this, and it pained her to listen to
her sister's facile hilarity, and her mother's coaxing observations.
Milord did not, however, neglect her; he made suitable remarks
concerning her school successes, and asked appropriate questions anent
her little play of _King Cophetua_. But whatever interest the subject
possessed was found in the fact that Olive had taken the part of the
Princess; and, re-arranging the story a little, Mrs. Barton declared,
with a shower of little laughs, and many waves of the white hands, that
'