their
shady hats, and went out to walk about the grounds. The air was so
delicious, and Lilias was so sweet and bright and unselfish, that it
was impossible for Ermie not to feel in the best of spirits.

She ceased to desire to be grown up, and was satisfied to run races
with Lilias in the simple pink cambric frock, which suited her
infinitely better than the gorgeous _chiffon_.

Ermengarde's life was not without care just then, but at this moment
she forgot her anxieties about Susy and Basil, and the broken
miniature. She forgot her mortification of the night before, and
looked what she was, a happy child.

Lilias was talking eagerly about the plans for the day's
entertainment. The whole party were to drive to a certain point about
eight miles from Glendower. There they were to picnic, and afterward,
with the tide in their favor, would return home by water.

"And mother says I may drive my own ponies," said Lilias. "You haven't
seen my Shetlands yet, have you, Ermie? Oh, they are such lovely pets,
and father has given me real silver bells for their harness."

Ermengarde was about to make a reply, when a voice was heard calling
Lilias.

"I'll be back in a minute, Ermie," said Lilias. "I suppose mother
wants me to arrange about something. Don't go far away; I'll be with
you directly."

She ran off, and Ermengarde, finding a rustic bench under a tree, sat
down and looked around her. She had scarcely done so, when she was
joined by Flora St. Leger.

"I saw you alone, and I rushed out to you, my love," said the young
lady. "I want to speak to you so badly. Where can we go to be by
ourselves?"

"But I am waiting here for Lilias," said Ermengarde.

"Oh, never mind. What does it matter whether Lilias finds you here
when she comes back or not? She doesn't really want you, and I do."

Now this was all immensely flattering, for Flora was quite grown up,
and Ermengarde had already lost her silly little heart to her.

"I should like to oblige you," she said.

"Well, _do_ oblige me! Let us fly down this side-walk. There's a
shrubbery at the farther end, where we shall be quite alone. Come,
give me your hand."

Ermengarde could not resist. A moment later she and Flora were pacing
up and down in the shrubbery.

"Ermengarde," said Miss St. Leger eagerly, "_are_ you going to that
stupid, stupid picnic to-day?"

"Why, of course," said Ermengarde, looking up in astonishment.

"You may call me Flora if you like, my