and we moved on again. I waited for her to
continue, but she was silent.

"How? What is the other way! The way in which you cannot understand me?"
I asked.

"Shall I tell you? Do you wish me to be perfectly frank?"

"Yes."

"I cannot understand how a man such as you seem to be, young, educated,
and with life before him, can be content to do as you do, spend your
time in fishing, or sailing, or shooting. To have no ambition at all.
My father was a poor country boy, like your friend, Mr. Taylor, but he
worked night and day until he became what he is now. And even now he
works, and works hard. Oh, I am proud of him! Not because he is what he
is, but because he has done it all himself. If I were a man I would have
some purpose in life; I would do SOMETHING worth while if it were only
to sell fish from a cart, like that old fellow with the queer name--what
is it?--Oh, yes! Theophilus Newcomb."

I did not answer. She had said all that was necessary, and more. It was
quite enough for me.

"There!" she observed, after a moment. "You asked me to tell you and I
did. If you never speak to me again it will be exactly what I deserve.
But I thought it and so I said it. Expressing my thoughts is one of my
bad habits. . . . Oh, why, we are almost home, aren't we!"

We had come to the edge of the grove bordering Beriah Holt's pasture.
The grove was on the west side of a little hill. Before us the pasture
sloped away to Beriah's house and barn, with the road beyond it. And
beyond that, in the distance, were the steeples and roofs of Denboro.
Among them the gables and tower of the Colton mansion rose, conspicuous
and costly.

She turned in the saddle. "I presume I may leave you now, Mr. Paine,"
she said. "Even you must admit that the rest of the way is plain
sailing. Thank you for your hospitality and for your services as guide.
I will send the basket and net over by one of the servants."

"I will take them now," I said, shortly.

"Very well, if you prefer. Here they are."

I took them from her.

"Good afternoon," she said. "And thanks once more for a very pleasant
picnic."

"You are quite welcome, I'm sure. Thank you for your frank opinion of
my--worthlessness. It was kind of you to express it."

The sarcasm was not lost upon her.

"I meant it as a kindness," she replied.

"Yes. And it was true enough, probably. Doubtless I shall derive great
benefit from your--words of wisdom."

Her patience, evidently, was exhau