s paving the way toward the same end. I am
tired of it. Stop!"

She turned suddenly round.

"I quite forgot," she said. "I must go into the village after all. I am
going to send a telegram."

They retraced their steps in silence. As they entered the
telegraph-office Andrew was just leaving, and the postmistress was
wishing him a respectful farewell. He touched his hat as the two
entered, and stepped on one side. Jeanne, however, held out her hand.

"Mr. Andrew," she said, "I am so glad to see you. I want to go out
again in that great punt of yours. Please, when can you take me?"

"I am afraid," Andrew answered, "that I am rather busy just now. I--"

He stopped short, for something in her face perplexed him. It was
impossible for her, of course, to feel disappointment to that extent,
and yet she had all the appearance of a child about to cry. He felt
suddenly awkward and ill at ease.

"Of course," he said, "if you really care about it, I should be very
pleased to take you any morning toward the end of the week."

"To-morrow morning, please," she begged.

He glanced towards his brother, who shrugged his shoulders.

"If Miss Le Mesurier is really inclined to go, Andrew," the latter
said, "I am sure that you will take good care of her. Perhaps some of
us will come, too."

She nodded her farewells to Andrew, and turned back with her host
toward the Hall. Cecil looked at her a little curiously. It was certain
that she seemed in better spirits than a short time ago. What a
creature of caprices!

"Will you tell me, Mr. De la Borne," she asked, "why the postmistress
called Mr. Andrew 'sir' if he is only a fisherman?"

"Habit, I suppose," Cecil answered carelessly. "They call every one sir
and ma'am."

"I am not so sure that it was habit," she said thoughtfully. "I think
that Mr. Andrew is not quite what he represents himself to be. No one
who had not education and experience of nice people could behave quite
as he does. Of course, he is rough and brusque at times, I know, but
then many men are like that."

Cecil did not reply. A grey mist was sweeping in from the sea, and
Jeanne shivered a little as they turned into the avenue.

"I wonder," she said pensively, "why we came here. My mother as a rule
hates to go far from civilization, and I am sure Lord Ronald is
miserable."

"I think one reason why your mother brought you here," Cecil said
slowly, "is because she wanted to give me a chance."

She picked up