the thicket on the edge
of the field, and returned wiping their lips on their sleeves. And she
saw Katrina talking animatedly to Baron von Rittenheim, who sat beside
her, while Patton McRae watched her with adoring eyes, and Tom wore the
conscious smile that indicates the young husband's pride of possession.

Sydney had been feeling very much without occupation since the Baron
had gone home, and the anticipation of seeing him again this afternoon
had been pleasant to her. He never had made love to her more definitely
than on the morning after his interview with Dr. Morgan, but to herself
she acknowledged that he admired her, and while she was not sure of his
entertaining a more pronounced feeling, up to this time she had known, at
least, that his eyes were only for her. And here he was _revelling_--she
underlined the word in her thought--in Katrina's vivacity and charm. The
sensation of rivalry was new to her and not pleasant.

As for Bob, she had a feeling of warm affection for dear old Bob, and a
desire to be useful to him, and she meant to make her influence over
him one for good, if that were possible. She was thoroughly glad in the
news that had come to her that Bob had not been drinking for several
months now. But how he could help referring to the passage that had
occurred between them she could not understand. She didn't really
want him to make love to her,--that was a notion altogether too
unmaidenly,--but she did feel as if an expression of affection from
_somebody_ would be very comforting.

She turned to John Wendell, who rode beside her, and gave him a more
generous smile than it had been his lot to receive while Sydney was the
possessor of those agreeable anticipations of the early afternoon.

"You like it? All this?" She waved her hand comprehensively.

"I love it," he answered, promptly, looking at her clear-cut face with
its frame of red hair under her sailor hat, and at the well-made linen
habit.

"It must be novel to you."

"Not very." He pulled his moustache to conceal an amused smile. "It
depends upon where new ends and old begins, you see. Now, I came down
here in April, so my feeling is not 'the last cry.'"

"But at that time of year you didn't see--oh, how foolish you are!" she
cried, and touched Johnny with her spur. His response brought him near
the phaeton, which seemed a focal point for a general movement.

"They're going to have the gander-pulling now," exclaimed Bob, who had
come