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Mrs. Wishart's house.

It was afternoon. The sun was streaming in from the west, filling the
sitting-room with its splendour; and in the radiance of it Lois was
sitting with some work. She was as unadorned as when Philip had seen
her the other day in the street; her gown was of some plain stuff,
plainly made; she was a very unfashionable-looking person. But the good
figure that Mr. Dillwyn liked to see was there; the fair outlines,
simple and graceful, light and girlish; and the exquisite hair caught
the light, and showed its varying, warm, bright tints. It was massed up
somehow, without the least artificiality, in order, and yet lying loose
and wavy; a beautiful combination which only a few heads can attain to.

There was nobody else in the room; and as Lois rose to meet the
visitor, he was not flattered to see that she did not recognize him.
Then the next minute a flash of light came into her face.

"I have had the pleasure," said Dillwyn. "I was afraid you were going
to ignore the fact."

"You gave us lunch the other day," said Lois, smiling. "Yes, I
remember. I shall always remember."

"You got home comfortably?"

"O yes, after we were so fortified. Mrs. Wishart was quite exhausted,
before lunch, I mean."

"This is a pleasant situation," said Philip, going a step nearer the
window.

"Yes, very! I enjoy those rocks very much."

"You have no rocks at home?"

"No rocks," said Lois; "plenty of _rock_, or stone; but it comes up out
of the ground just enough to make trouble, not to give pleasure. The
country is all level."

"And you enjoy the variety?"

"O, not because it is variety. But I have been nowhere and have seen
nothing in my life."

"So the world is a great unopened book to you?" said Philip, with a
smile regarding her.

"It will always be that, I think," Lois replied, shaking her head.

"Why should it?"

"I live at Shampuashuh."

"What then? Here you are in New York."

"Yes, wonderfully. But I am going home again."

"Not soon?"

"Very soon. It will be time to begin to make garden in a few days."

"Can the garden not be made without you?"

"Not very well; for nobody knows, except me, just where things were
planted last year."

"And is that important?"

"Very important." Lois smiled at his simplicity. "Because many things
must be changed. They must not be planted where they were last year."

"Why not?"

"They would not do so well. They have all to shift about, like
Puss-in-