success; and Eveleen,
perceiving her aunt's eyes were upon her, suddenly recollected that she
had gone quite as far as decorum allowed, and made as masterly a retreat
as the circumstances permitted.

'Well, I have always thought a "penny for your thoughts" the boldest
offer in the world, and now it is proved.'

This scene made Mrs. Edmonstone doubly annoyed, the next morning, at
waking with a disabling headache, which made it quite impossible for
her to attempt going to Mary Ross's fete. With great sincerity, Amy
entreated to be allowed to remain at home, but she thought it would
only be making the change more remarkable; she did not wish Mary to be
disappointed; among so many ladies, Amy could easily avoid getting into
difficulties; while Laura would, she trusted, be able to keep Eveleen in
order.

The day was sunny, and all went off to admiration. The gentlemen
presided over the cricket, and the ladies over 'blind man's buff' and
'thread my needle;' but perhaps Mary was a little disappointed that,
though she had Sir Guy's bodily presence, the peculiar blitheness and
animation which he usually shed around him were missing. He sung at
church, he filled tiny cups from huge pitchers of tea, he picked up
and pacified a screaming child that had tumbled off a gate--he was
as good-natured and useful as possible, but he was not his joyous and
brilliant self.

Amy devoted herself to the smallest fry, played assiduously for three
quarters of an hour with a fat, grave boy of three, who stood about a
yard-and-a-half from her, solemnly throwing a ball into her lap, and
never catching it again, took charge of many caps and bonnets, and
walked about with Louisa Harper, a companion whom no one envied her.

In conclusion, the sky clouded over, it became chilly, and a shower
began to fall. Laura pursued Eveleen, and Amy hunted up Charlotte from
the utmost parts of the field, where she was the very centre of 'winding
up the clock,' and sorely against her will, dragged her off the wet
grass. About sixty yards from the house, Guy met them with an umbrella,
which, without speaking, he gave to Charlotte. Amy said, 'Thank you,'
and again came that look. Charlotte rattled on, and hung back to talk to
Guy, so that Amy could not hasten on without leaving her shelterless.
It may be believed that she had the conversation to herself. At the
door they met Mary and her father, going to dismiss their flock, who had
taken refuge in a cart-shed at