ur memory as good as my own, Miss Hood?' she said pleasantly. 'Do
you remember our meeting four years ago?'

The other regarded her with quiet surprise, and said she had no
recollection of the meeting.

'Not at Mr. Baxendale's, my uncle's, one day that you lunched with us
when I was staying there?'

Miss Hood had wholly forgotten the circumstance. It served, however, for
the commencement of a conversation, which went en till Mrs. Rossall,
finding the hammock deserted, was guided by the sound of voices to where
the two girls and the children sat.

In the afternoon there was a setting forth into the country. Mr. Athel
drove his sister and the children; Wilfrid and Beatrice accompanied them
on horseback. The course to be pursued having been determined, the
riders were not at pains to keep the carriage always within sight.

'Why did Miss Hood decline to come?' Mr. Athel inquired, shortly after
they had started.

She gave no reason, Mrs. Rossall replied. 'It was her choice to stay at
home.'

'Of course you asked her in a proper way?'

'Why, Philip, of course I did.'

'Miss Hood never alters her mind,' remarked Patty.

'Never,' exclaimed the other twin with decision.

'An admirable characteristic,' commented their uncle, 'provided her
decision is right to begin with.'

Beatrice had just led off at a gallop; Wilfrid necessarily followed her.
When the pace slackened they began to talk of Indifferent things. On the
crest of a hill, whence the carriage could be seen far away on the white
road, the girl reined in, and, turning to her companion, asked
abruptly--

'What is your opinion of Miss Hood?'

'Why do you ask such a question?'

'Because I should like to know. She interests me, and you must have had
opportunities enough lately of studying her character?'

'Why does she interest you?'

'I can't say. I thought you might help me to discover the reason. You
have often said that you liked women of strongly marked character.'

'How do you conclude that she is one?'

'I feel it; we were talking together before lunch. I don't think I like
her; I don't think she has principles.'

Wilfrid laughed.

'Principles! The word is vague. You mean, no doubt, that she doesn't
seem to have commonplace prejudices.'

'That's just what I wanted you to say.'

She let her horse move on. The young man followed, his eyes gazing
absently before him, a smile fixed upon his lips.

Beatrice looked over her shoulder.

'Does