the window,
now came into the garden, which immediately became idyllic.

She was not in any way like the innkeeper's daughter of Comic Opera.
She was a schoolgirl of sixteen, with a long, fair plait, a short serge
skirt, and a seraphic oval face. She ought to have been called Fanny or
Clara. Unluckily her name was Gladys.

She said in a very sweet voice--

"You're quite a stranger, sir." And she amplified the assertion by
adding, "You haven't been here not this ever so long."

"I know I haven't, but I've been longing to come."

"Not you!" she said ironically.

She was standing opposite him, with her hands behind her back. Without a
hat, in the glaring afternoon sun, with the complexion, pale pink and
white, of a china doll that had never made up, she was a refreshing
sight after the theatrical world in London, not to speak of society.
Vaughan seemed to think so.

"Well, how did you enjoy the play?" he asked.

"It was very kind of you to send us the tickets. Mother enjoyed it."

"You didn't care much for the piece yourself?"

"I thought it was rather silly," she answered.

He had never had a criticism on his work that pleased him more.

"I mean," she went on, "I shouldn't have thought--well, nobody would go
on like that."

"Go on how?"

"Why, go on so silly."

"You wouldn't like to see another play, written by the same man, then?"

"I wouldn't mind another one. Wild horses wouldn't drag me to see that
again."

"Wild horses are not likely to try," he observed. At which jest she
laughed loudly and charmingly, showing marvellous teeth. She had no
cockney accent, though she occasionally and fitfully dropped an H.

"Oh, Gladys, do take me for a walk in the field."

"Want to see the calf?"

"No; I can live without seeing the calf. I want to sit in the field with
you."

"You are a caution! Come on then, but I can't stay long."

They climbed the gate, which she seemed to think a quicker mode of
entrance than sending for the key, and sat in the field, from which Mr.
Brill always declared you could see three counties. Perhaps you could;
if so, they all looked exactly alike.

"It's quiet here, isn't it? I shan't have much more of it," she
remarked.

"Oh, Gladys! Don't say you're going away!"

"Of course I am. Don't you know I'm going to be a manicure in Bond
Street?"

"Bond Street? How revolting! Is that your ambition?"

"Why, I think it would be very nice. I must do something. Father's
settled