ull of the sweet warblings of
innumerable songsters. Mingling with these is the pleasant drip, drip
of the falling water.

A great lazy bee falls, as though no longer able to sustain its mighty
frame, right into Miss Massereene's lap, and lies there humming. With a
little start she shakes it off, almost fearing to touch it with her
dainty rose-white fingers.

Thus rudely roused, she speaks:

"Are you asleep?" she asks, not turning her head in her companion's
direction.

"No," coldly; "are you?"

"Yes, almost, and dreaming."

"Dreams are the children of an idle brain," quotes he, somewhat
maliciously.

"Yes?" sweetly. "And so you really have read your Shakespeare? And can
actually apply it every now and then with effect, to the utter
confusion of your friends? But I think you might have spared _me_.
Teddy!" bending forward and casting upon him a bewitching, tormenting,
adorable glance from under her dark lashes, "if you bite your moustache
any harder it will come off, and then what will become of me?"

With a laugh Luttrell flings away the fern he has been reducing to
ruin, and rising, throws himself upon the grass at her feet.

"Why don't I hate you?" he says, vehemently. "Why cannot I feel even
decently angry with you? You torment and charm in the same breath. At
times I say to myself, 'She is cold, heartless, unfeeling,' and then a
word, a look--Molly," seizing her cool, slim little hand as it lies
passive in her lap, "tell me, do you think you will ever--I do not mean
to-morrow, or in a week, or a month, but in all the long years to come,
do you think you will ever love me?" As he finishes speaking, he
presses his lips with passionate tenderness to her hand.

"Now, who gave you leave to do that?" asks Molly, _a propos_ of
the kissing.

"Never mind: answer me."

"But I do mind very much indeed. I mind dreadfully."

"Well, then, I apologize, and I am very sorry, and I won't do it again:
is that enough?"

"No, the fact still remains," gazing at her hand with a little pout, as
though the offending kiss were distinctly visible; "and I don't want
it."

"But what can be done?"

"I think--you had better--take it back again," says she, the pretended
pout dissolving into an irresistible smile, as she slips her fingers
with a sudden unexpected movement into his; after which she breaks into
a merry laugh."

"And now tell me," he persists, holding them close prisoners, and
bestowing a loving caress upon e