d obstinacy." On the day after this
advice was given, Harry Gilmore made his formal offer.

CHAPTER II.

FLO'S RED BALL.

"You should give him an answer, dear, one way or the other." These
wise words were spoken by Mrs. Fenwick to her friend as they sat
together, with their work in their hands, on a garden seat under a
cedar tree. It was an August evening after dinner, and the Vicar was
out about his parish. The two elder children were playing in the
garden, and the two young women were alone together.

[Illustration: "You should give him an answer, dear, one way
or the other."]

"Of course I shall give him an answer. What answer does he wish?"

"You know what answer he wishes. If any man was ever in earnest he
is."

"Am I not doing the best I can for him then in waiting--to see
whether I can say yes?"

"It cannot be well for him to be in suspense on such a matter; and,
dear Mary, it cannot be well for you either. One always feels that
when a girl bids a man to wait, she will take him after a while. It
always comes to that. If you had been at home at Loring, the time
would not have been much; but, being so near to him, and seeing him
every day, must be bad. You must both be in a state of fever."

"Then I will go back to Loring."

"No; not now, till you have positively made up your mind, and given
him an answer one way or the other. You could not go now and leave
him in doubt. Take him at once, and have done with it. He is as good
as gold."

In answer to this, Mary for a while said nothing, but went sedulously
on with her work.

"Mamma," said a little girl, running up, followed by a nursery-maid,
"the ball's in the water!"

The child was a beautiful fair-haired little darling about
four-and-a-half years old, and a boy, a year younger, and a little
shorter, and a little stouter, was toddling after her.

"The ball in the water, Flo! Can't Jim get it out?"

"Jim's gone, mamma."

Then Jane, the nursery-maid, proceeded to explain that the ball had
rolled in and had been carried down the stream to some bushes, and
that it was caught there just out of reach of all that she, Jane,
could do with a long stick for its recovery. Jim, the gardener, was
not to be found; and they were in despair lest the ball should become
wet through and should perish.

Mary at once saw her opportunity of escape,--her opportunity for that
five minutes of thought by herself which she needed. "I'll come, Flo,
and see