en reach to the little cottage, with
disastrous results.

"Shall I ride over and see how Mrs. Sheridan is?" she asked, when the
heavy rain had ceased, and sunshine was raising a warm vapour from the
sodden earth.

"Why not?" replied Mrs. Quirk. "It will do you good--and Sylvia, too."

Sylvia Jackson still remained at "Layton." She had come prepared to
spend a monotonous fortnight at Grey Town, because she was tired of the
city. But she had remained at "Layton" day after day, accommodating
herself to the inhabitants and to the routine of the house. No one
resented her presence, nor did anyone desire her departure, for she had
made herself pleasant to all. In Mrs. Quirk's eyes she stood second only
to Kathleen. Samuel Quirk regarded her as chief critic and adviser on
the estate, and to Kathleen she was a cheerful, madcap companion, who
reminded her that she was yet young. Denis Quirk's sentiments in regard
to the girl he carefully concealed from the outside world, even from
Sylvia herself. He was polite and deferential, yet humorous, with her;
but she would have liked him to demonstrate clearly that he had enrolled
himself among her bodyguard. She had given him abundant opportunities so
to do, walking almost daily into the town with him, paying flying visits
to "The Mercury" office, and playing dreamy music while he smoked his
evening pipe. But Denis Quirk made no sign.

When Kathleen O'Connor proposed to ride round and see the Sheridans,
Sylvia was painting. She was an adept at every variety of artistic work.
Of any of the arts she might have made a success had she been content to
devote her talent solely to that one; but she was too versatile to be
completely successful, and while everything was good, nothing was
perfect.

"I would love to go with you," she cried.

"And I will meet you at the lower bridge and ride home with you," said
Denis Quirk.

In accordance with this arrangement, the two girls rode towards Mrs.
Sheridan's after breakfast. Kathleen O'Connor was a perfect horsewoman.
Sylvia Jackson, on the other hand, was unused to horses, and very
nervous; but she was too proud to confess the fact. Kathleen, while
recognising Sylvia's lack of capacity was too charitable to comment upon
it. She had protested once, when her friend asked to be allowed to ride
a rather high-spirited horse, but when Sylvia retorted hotly, Kathleen
offered no further opposition. Thus it came about that Sylvia rode in
constant dre