you a better poem, too!"

The color leaped afresh in Kitty's cheek. She pushed him away, and,
holding him, perused his handsome, scornful face, and all the manly
strength of form and attitude. Her own lids wavered.

"What a silly scene!" she said, and fell--a little, soft, yielding
form--into his arms.

XV

The church clock of Haggart village had just struck half-past six. A
white, sunny mist enwrapped the park and garden. Voices and shouts rang
through the mist; little could yet be seen, but the lawns and the park
seemed to be pervaded with bustle and preparation, and every now and
then as the mist drifted groups of workmen could be distinguished,
marquees emerged, flags floated, and carts laden with benches and
trestle-tables rumbled slowly over the roads and tracks of the park.

The house itself was full of gardeners, arranging banks of magnificent
flowers in the hall and drawing-rooms, and superintended by the head
gardener, a person of much greater dignity than Ashe himself, who swore
at any underling making a noise, as though the slumbers of the "quality"
in the big house overhead and the danger of disturbing them were the
dearest interests of a burdened life.

As to the mistress of the house, at any rate, there was no need for
caution. The clocks of the house had barely followed the church clock in
striking the half-hour when the workmen on the ground floor saw Lady
Kitty come down-stairs and go through the drawing-room window into the
garden. There she gave her opinion on the preparations, pushing on
afterwards into the park, where she astounded the various contractors
and their workmen by her appearance at such an hour, and by the vigor
and decision of her orders. Finally she left the park behind, just as
its broad, scorched surfaces began everywhere to shake off the mist, and
entered one of the bordering woods.

She had a basket on her arm, and, when she had found for herself a mossy
seat amid the roots of a great oak, she unpacked it. It contained a mass
of written pages, some fresh scribbling-paper, ink and pens, and a small
portfolio. When they were all lying on the moss beside her, Kitty turned
over the sheets with a loving hand, reading here and there.

"It is good!" she said to herself. "I vow it is!"

Dipping her pen in the ink, she began upon corrections. The sun filtered
through the thick leafage overhead, touching her white dress, her small
shoes, and the masses of her hair. She w