gathered round Lily. Evidently she was the prime
favourite of them all; and as her companion had now become tired
of dancing, new sports were proposed, and Lily was carried off to
"Prisoner's Base."

"I am very happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Chillingly," said a
frank, pleasant voice; and a well-dressed, good-looking man held out his
hand to Kenelm.

"My husband," said Mrs. Braefield, with a certain pride in her look.

Kenelm responded cordially to the civilities of the master of the house,
who had just returned from his city office, and left all its cares
behind him. You had only to look at him to see that he was prosperous,
and deserved to be so. There were in his countenance the signs of strong
sense, of good-humour,--above all, of an active energetic temperament. A
man of broad smooth forehead, keen hazel eyes, firm lips and jaw; with a
happy contentment in himself, his house, the world in general, mantling
over his genial smile, and outspoken in the metallic ring of his voice.

"You will stay and dine with us, of course," said Mr. Braefield; "and,
unless you want very much to be in town to-night, I hope you will take a
bed here."

Kenelm hesitated.

"Do stay at least till to-morrow," said Mrs. Braefield. Kenelm hesitated
still; and while hesitating his eye rested on Lily, leaning on the arm
of a middle-aged lady, and approaching the hostess,--evidently to take
leave.

"I cannot resist so tempting an invitation," said Kenelm, and he fell
back a little behind Lily and her companion.

"Thank you much for so pleasant a day," said Mrs. Cameron to the
hostess. "Lily has enjoyed herself extremely. I only regret we could not
come earlier."

"If you are walking home," said Mr. Braefield, "let me accompany you. I
want to speak to your gardener about his heart's-ease: it is much finer
than mine."

"If so," said Kenelm to Lily, "may I come too? Of all flowers that grow,
heart's-ease is the one I most prize."

A few minutes afterwards Kenelm was walking by the side of Lily along
the banks of a little stream, tributary to the Thames; Mrs. Cameron and
Mr. Braefield in advance, for the path only held two abreast.

Suddenly Lily left his side, allured by a rare butterfly--I think it is
called the Emperor of Morocco--that was sunning its yellow wings upon
a group of wild reeds. She succeeded in capturing this wanderer in her
straw hat, over which she drew her sun-veil. After this notable capture
she returned de