nor thin-lipped. Altogether, it was a pleasant
face.

A light step sauntering along the terrace, a low voice softly singing
"Drink to Me only with Thine Eyes," roused him from his reverie. He did not
move, but his mouth and eyes relaxed into a smile as a white figure came
out of the dusk exactly opposite his window, and singer and song stopped
together. "Oh, Percival! I didn't know you had come out of the
dining-room."

"Twenty minutes ago. What have you been doing?"

"Wandering about the garden. What could I do on such a perfect night but
what I have been doing all this perfect day?"

She stood looking up at him as she spoke. She had an arch, beautiful
face--the sort of face which would look well with patches and powder. Only
it would have been a sin to powder the hair, which, though deep brown, had
rich touches of gold, as if a happy sunbeam were imprisoned in its waves.
Her eyes were dark, her lips were softly red: everything about Sissy
Langton's face was delicate and fine. She lifted her hand to reach a spray
of jasmine just above her head, and the lace sleeve above fell back from
her pretty, slender wrist: "Give it to me. Percival! do you hear? Oh, what
a tease you are!" For he drew it back when she would have gathered it. Mrs.
Middleton was heard making a remark inside.

"You don't deserve it," said Percival. "Here is my aunt saying that the hot
weather makes you scandalously idle."

"Scandalously idle! Aunt Harriet!" Sissy repeated it in incredulous
amusement, and the old lady's indignant disclaimer was heard: "Percival!
Most unusually idle, I said."

"Oh! most unusually idle? I beg your pardon. But doesn't that imply a
considerable amount of idleness to be got through by one person?"

"Yes, but you helped me," said Sissy.--"Aunt Harriet, listen. He stood on
my thimble ever so long while he was talking this afternoon. How can I work
without a thimble?"

"Impossible!" said Percival. "And I don't think I can get you another
to-morrow: I am going out. On Thursday I shall come back and bring you one
that won't fit. Friday you must go with me to change it. Yes, we shall
manage three days' holiday very nicely."

"Nonsense! But it _is_ your fault if I am idle."

"Why, yes. Having no thimble, you are naturally unable to finish your book,
for instance."

"Oh, I sha'n't finish that: I don't like it. The heroine is so dreadfully
strong-minded I don't believe in her. She never does anything wrong; and
though