ed a little closer to his side.

"You are not sorry?" he asked.

"Sorry? Oh, no. It is so good of you, Jack, and the weather is
perfect--we could not have had a better day."

Their depression vanished like a summer cloud, as they rode through
Twickenham and Teddington, under the shade of the great trees, enjoying
the occasional views of the shining river, and the peeps into the walled
gardens of the fine old houses.

"It is all new to me," said Madge, with a sigh. "I used to go to Hampton
Court with father on Sundays, but that was long ago; he doesn't take me
anywhere now, except to the theatre once or twice a year."

"It is a shame," Jack replied indignantly, "when you enjoy things so
much."

"Oh, but I dearly love Strand-on-the-Green. I am very happy there."

"And you never long for a wider life?"

"Yes--sometimes. I want to go abroad and travel. It must be delightful
to see the places and countries one has read about, to roam in foreign
picture galleries."

"I would like to show you the Continent," said Jack. "We have the same
tastes, and--"

A rapturous "Oh!" burst from Madge. They had turned suddenly in at
the gates of Bushey Park, and before them was the twenty-mile-long
perspective of the chestnut avenue, bounded by the white sunlit walls of
the hospitable Greyhound. The girl's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and in
her excitement, as some fresh bit of beauty was revealed, she rested a
tiny gloved hand on Jack's arm.

"I will take you out often, if you will let me," he said.

They drove out of the park, and swung around the weather-beaten wall of
Hampton Court. Red-coated soldiers were lounging by the barracks in the
palace yard, and the clear notes of a bugle rose from quarters; a tide
of people and vehicles was flowing in the sunlight over Molesey Bridge.
Jack turned off into the lower river road, and so on by shady and
picturesque ways to the ancient village of Hampton.

They put up the horse and trap at the Flower Pot, and lunched in the
coffee-room of that old-fashioned hostelry, at a little table laid in
the bow-window, looking out on the quaint high-street. It was a charming
repast, and both were hungry enough to do it justice. The Chambertin
sparkled like rubies as it flowed from the cobwebbed bottle, and Jack
needed little urging from Madge to light a fragrant Regalia.

Then they sauntered forth into the sunshine, down to the river shore,
and Jack chose a big roomy boat, fitted with the sof