ip-and-a-jump anyway. But hoots!

"Why shouldn't I love Johnny,
"And why shouldn't Johnny love me?

"Glory."

IV.

It was a beautiful May morning, and standing by the Paddington Station
with the dog at his feet, he felt her approach instinctively as she came
toward him with her free step in her white cambric dress under the light
parasol fringed with lace. Her face was glowing with the fresh air, and
she looked happy and bright. As they walked into the station she poured
out a stream of questions about the dog, took possession of him
straightway, and concluded to call him Don.

They agreed to spend the day at Burnham Beeches, and while he went for
the tickets she stepped on to the platform. It was Saturday, the
bookstall was ablaze with the picture papers, and one of them was
prominently displayed at a page containing her own portrait. She wanted
John to see this, so she invented an excuse for bringing him face to face
with it, and then she laughed and he bought the paper.

The clerk recognised her--they could see that by the smile he kept in
reserve--and a group of officers in the Guards, in flannels and straw
hats, going down to their club at Maidenhead, looked at her and nudged
each other as if they knew who she was. Her eyes danced, her lips smiled,
and she was proud that John should see the first fruits of her fame. She
was proud of him, too, with his bold walk and strong carriage, as they
passed the officers in their negligent dress, with their red and blue
neckties. But John's heart was aching, and he was wondering how he was to
begin on the duty he had to do.

From the moment they started she gave herself up to the delights of their
holiday, and even the groaning and cranking and joggling of the train
amused her. When the Guards had got into their first-class carriage they
had glanced at the open window where her brilliant eyes and rosy lips
were gleaming behind a veil. John gazed at her with his slow and tender
looks, and felt guilty and ashamed.

They left the train at Slough, and a wave of freshness, with an odour of
verdure and sap, blew into their faces. The dog leaped and barked, and
Glory skipped along with it, breaking every moment into enthusiastic
exclamations. There was hardly any wind, and the clouds, which were very
high overhead, were scarcely moving. It was a glorious day, and Glory's
face wore an expression of perfect happiness.

They lunched at the old hotel in the town, wit