by
me." She patted the ground beside her, and smiled in her most
irresistible fashion. "We'll have the loveliest talk--"

Elma hesitated, fascinated but dismayed.

"I daren't. It's breaking the rules. What would they say?"

"That's what we've got to find out. They can't kill us, anyway, and
we'll have had a good time first. You've got to pay your bills in this
wicked world. Now, then--hustle!"

"I can't!" faltered Elma, and lifted one foot over the wire arch, "I
daren't!" and stepped completely over, lifting her skirt behind her.
The deed was done! A tingle of excitement ran through her veins, she
reared her head and laughed aloud, looking with bright, unashamed eyes
at the curtained windows. The moment of revolt had come; a moment long
desired in the depths of a meek, long-suffering heart, and prepared for
by many a seething inward struggle. Cornelia had applied the match, and
the tow blazed. Elma laughed again, and seated herself beneath the
tree. Cornelia had tossed her hat on the ground and clasped her hands
round her knees in comfortable, inelegant position. Elma did the same,
and the American girl, watching her, was at a loss to account for the
reckless radiance of her smile. The sunshine flickered down between the
branches on the sweet pink and white face, the pansy blue eyes, and long
slender throat; it shone alike on the ill-fitting gown, the clumsy
shoes, the carelessly arranged hair. Cornelia's golden eyes travelled
up and down, down and up, in earnest, scrutinising fashion. She met
Elma's glance with a shake of the head, forbearing, yet reproachful.

"Say! You don't know how to prink, do you?"

"Prink?" Elma was doubtful even as to the meaning of the word. She
arched her brows in inquiry, whereat Cornelia laughed aloud.

"You are real, genuine English! You make me think of roses, and cream,
and honey, and mountain dew, and everything that's sweet and wholesome,
and takes no thought of the morrow. If you lived over with us, we'd fix
you up so your own mother wouldn't know you, and there'd be paragraphs
about you in the papers every single day, saying what you did, and what
you were wearing, and how you looked when you wore it."

"`Miss Elma Ramsden sat on the grass, attired in a blue rag, with
freckles on her nose.'"

"My, no!" Cornelia chuckled. "They spread it pretty thick when they
once begin. You'd have every adjective in the dictionary emptied over
you. `The irresistib