r
farewell.

The earth danced under Emily's feet as she ran across the lawns, the
sun glowed warm, the brook tinkled over the cascades in a very madness
of mirth. At the head of the veranda steps she turned to look once
more at the roof of the white pavilion among the locust trees.

"Uncle will like you when he knows you," she laughed in her heart.
"Any one _must_ like you."

The servant she met in the hall said that Mr. Bailey had gone out, and
Mr. Ffrench also, but separately, the former having taken the short
route across toward the factory. That way Emily went in pursuit,
intending to overtake him with her pony cart.

But upon reaching the stables, past which the path ran, she found
Bailey himself engaged in an inspection of the limousine in company
with the chauffeur.

"You'll have to look into her differential, Anderson," he was
pronouncing, when the young girl came beside him.

"Come, please," she urged breathlessly.

"Come?" repeated Bailey, wheeling, with his slow benevolent smile.
"Sure, Miss Emily; where?"

She shook her head, not replying until they were safely outside;
then:

"To Mr. Lestrange; he is in the pavilion. He wants to see you."

"To Lestrange!" he almost shouted, halting. "Lestrange, here?"

"Yes. There is time; he says there is time. He is going back as soon
as he sees you."

"But what's he doing here? What does he mean by risking his neck
without any practice?"

"He came to see me," she whispered, and stood confessed.

"God!" said Bailey, quite reverently, after a moment of speechless
stupefaction. "You, and him!"

She lifted confiding eyes to him, moving nearer.

"It is a secret, but I wanted you to know because you like us both.
Dick said you loved Mr. Lestrange."

"Yes," was the dazed assent.

"Well, then--But come, he is waiting."

She was sufficiently unlike the usual Miss Ffrench to bewilder any
one. Bailey dumbly followed her back across the park, carrying his hat
in his hand.

A short distance from the pavilion Emily stopped abruptly, turning a
startled face to her companion.

"Some one is there," she said. "Some one is speaking. I forgot that
Uncle Ethan had gone out."

She heard Bailey catch his breath oddly. Her own pulses began to beat
with heavy irregularity, as a few steps farther brought the two
opposite the open arcade. There they halted, frozen.

In the place Emily had left, where all her feminine toys still lay,
Mr. Ffrench was seated as one ex