.''

"Have. Why?"

"I am afraid that last speech was rather mixed up."

"Look here,--I wish you'd call me Lawrence. We know each other quite
well enough."

"Is that the custom in your country?"

"It is going to be your country, as well. You need not speak in that
fashion."

"I am thinking of leaving the country," Dolly went on unconcernedly.
"Mother is longing to travel; and I am going to bring it about."

"I have tried Mr. Copley on that subject, I assure you."

"I shall try now, and do it."

"Think so? Then we will consult about plans and routes again this
evening. Mrs. Copley likes that almost as well as the thing itself.
For, Dolly, you cannot get along without me."

Which assertion Dolly left uncontroverted.

A few days after Lawrence had gone back to town was the time for Mrs.
Jersey's journey. Dolly told her mother her plan; and after a deal of
doubts and fears and arguings on Mrs. Copley's part, it was finally
agreed to. It seemed the hopefullest thing to do; and Mrs. Copley could
be left well enough with the servants for a few days. So, early one
morning Mrs. Jersey called for her, and Dolly with a beating heart
kissed her mother and went off.

Some business reasons occasioned the housekeeper to make the journey in
a little covered carriage belonging to the house, instead of taking the
public post-coach. It was all the pleasanter for Dolly, being entirely
private and quiet; though the time consumed was longer. They were then
in the end of summer; the weather was delicious and warm; the country
rich in flowers and grain fields and ripening fruit. Dolly at first was
full of delight, the change and the novelty were so welcome, and the
country through which they drove was so exceeding lovely. Nevertheless,
as the day went by there began to creep over her a strange feeling of
loneliness; a feeling of being out on the journey of life all by
herself and left to her own skill and resources. It was not the journey
to London; for _that_ she was well accompanied and provided; it was the
real undertaking upon which she had set out, the goal of which was not
London but--her father. To find her father not only, but to keep him;
to prevent his being lost to himself, lost to her mother, to life, and
to her. Could she? Or was she embarked on an enterprise beyond her
strength? A weak girl; what was she, to do so much! It grew and pressed
upon her, this feeling of being alone and busy with a work too great
for her