dn't you wait for me?" she asked.

Philip took her up sharply. "If Eunice likes seeing the river better
than waiting in the street," he said, "isn't she free to do as she
pleases?"

Helena said nothing more; Philip walked on slowly by himself. Not
knowing what to make of it, I turned to Miss Jillgall. "Surely Philip
can't have quarreled with Helena?" I said.

Miss Jillgall answered in an odd off-hand manner: "Not he! He is a great
deal more likely to have quarreled with himself."

"Why?"

"Suppose you ask him why?"

It was not to be thought of; it would have looked like prying into his
thoughts. "Selina!" I said, "there is something odd about you to-day.
What is the matter? I don't understand you."

"My poor dear, you will find yourself understanding me before long." I
thought I saw something like pity in her face when she said that.

"My poor dear?" I repeated. "What makes you speak to me in that way?"

"I don't know--I'm tired; I'm an old fool--I'll go back to the house."

Without another word, she left me. I turned to look for Philip, and
saw that my sister had joined him while I had been speaking to Miss
Jillgall. It pleased me to find that they were talking in a friendly way
when I joined them. A quarrel between Helena and my husband that is to
be--no, my husband that _shall_ be--would have been too distressing, too
unnatural I might almost call it.

Philip looked along the backward path, and asked what had become of Miss
Jillgall. "Have you any objection to follow her example?" he said to me,
when I told him that Selina had returned to the town. "I don't care for
the banks of this river."

Helena, who used to like the river at other times, was as ready as
Philip to leave it now. I fancy they had both been kindly waiting to
change our walk, till I came to them, and they could study my wishes
too. Of course I was ready to go where they pleased. I asked Philip if
there was anything he would like to see, when we got into the streets
again.

Clever Helena suggested what seemed to be a strange amusement to offer
to Philip. "Let's take him to the Girls' School," she said.

It appeared to be a matter of perfect indifference to him; he was, what
they call, ironical. "Oh, yes, of course. Deeply interesting! deeply
interesting!" He suddenly broke into the wildest good spirits, and
tucked my hand under his arm with a gayety which it was impossible
to resist. "What a boy you are!" Helena said, enjoying his del