her to Brogden, the village nearly a mile off. They set off
just as the old pony was coming to the door for Violet to have a riding
lesson; and on their return, at the end of two hours, found Arthur still
leading, letting go, running by the side, laughing and encouraging.

'Fools' paradise!' thought Theodora, as she silently mounted the steps.

'That is a remarkably pretty little hat,' said Miss Gardner. Theodora
made a blunt affirmative sound.

'No doubt she is highly pleased to sport it. The first time of wearing
anything so becoming must be charming at her age. I could envy her.'

'Poor old pony!' was all Theodora chose to answer.

'There, they are leaving off,' as Arthur led away the pony, and Violet
began to ascend the steps, turning her head to look after him.

Miss Gardner came to meet her, asking how she liked riding.

'Oh, so much, thank you.'

'You are a good scholar?'

'I hope I shall be. He wants me to ride well. He is going to take me
into the woods to-morrow.'

'We have been admiring your hat,' said Miss Gardner. 'It is exactly what
my sister would like. Have you any objection to tell where you bought
it?'

'I'll ask him: he gave it to me.'

'Dressing his new doll,' thought Theodora; but as Violet had not been
personally guilty of the extravagance, she thought amends due to her for
the injustice, and asked her to come into the gardens.

'Thank you, I should like it; but will he, will Mr.--will Arthur know
what has become of me?'

'He saw you join us,' said Theodora, thinking he ought to be relieved to
have her taken off his hands for a little while.

'Have you seen the gardens?' asked Jane.

'Are not these the gardens?' said Violet, surprised, as they walked on
through the pleasure-ground, and passed a screen of trees, and a walk
trellised over with roses.

There spread out before her a sweep of shaven turf, adorned with
sparkling jets d'eau of fantastic forms, gorgeous masses of American
plants, the flaming or the snowy azalea, and the noble rhododendron, in
every shade of purple cluster among its evergreen leaves; beds of rare
lilies, purely white or brilliant with colour; roses in their perfection
of bloom; flowers of forms she had never figured to herself, shaded by
wondrous trees, the exquisite weeping deodara, the delicate mimosa,
the scaly Himalaya pines, the feathery gigantic ferns of the southern
hemisphere.

Violet stood gazing in a silent trance till Arthur's step approach