he Spanish
chestnuts of Richmond Park. Bowling smoothly, if dustily, along, in
a cloud of their own creation, they would stare fashionably at the
antlered heads which the great slow deer raised out of a forest of
bracken that promised to autumn lovers such cover as was never seen
before. And now and again, as the amorous perfume of chestnut flowers
and of fern was drifted too near, one would say to the other: "My dear!
What a peculiar scent!"

And the lime-flowers that year were of rare prime, near honey-coloured.
At the corners of London squares they gave out, as the sun went down, a
perfume sweeter than the honey bees had taken--a perfume that stirred a
yearning unnamable in the hearts of Forsytes and their peers, taking the
cool after dinner in the precincts of those gardens to which they alone
had keys.

And that yearning made them linger amidst the dim shapes of flower-beds
in the failing daylight, made them turn, and turn, and turn again, as
though lovers were waiting for them--waiting for the last light to die
away under the shadow of the branches.

Some vague sympathy evoked by the scent of the limes, some sisterly
desire to see for herself, some idea of demonstrating the soundness
of her dictum that there was 'nothing in it'; or merely the craving to
drive down to Richmond, irresistible that summer, moved the mother of
the little Darties (of little Publius, of Imogen, Maud, and Benedict) to
write the following note to her sister-in-law:

'DEAR IRENE, 'June 30.

'I hear that Soames is going to Henley tomorrow for the night. I thought
it would be great fun if we made up a little party and drove down to,
Richmond. Will you ask Mr. Bosinney, and I will get young Flippard.

'Emily (they called their mother Emily--it was so chic) will lend us the
carriage. I will call for you and your young man at seven o'clock.

'Your affectionate sister,

'WINIFRED DARTIE.

'Montague believes the dinner at the Crown and Sceptre to be quite
eatable.'

Montague was Dartie's second and better known name--his first being
Moses; for he was nothing if not a man of the world.

Her plan met with more opposition from Providence than so benevolent a
scheme deserved. In the first place young Flippard wrote:

'DEAR Mrs. DARTIE,

'Awfully sorry. Engaged two deep.

'Yours,

'AUGUSTUS FLIPPARD.'

It was late to send into the by-ways and hedges to remedy this
misfortune. With the promptitude and conduct of a mother, W