u
only talked about books. Cecil's hard hit. Lucy won't marry him. If
you'd gone on about her, as you did about them, he might have broken
down."

"But when--"

"Late last night. I must go."

"Perhaps they won't want me down there."

"No--go on. Good-bye."

"Thank goodness!" exclaimed Mr. Beebe to himself, and struck the saddle
of his bicycle approvingly, "It was the one foolish thing she ever
did. Oh, what a glorious riddance!" And, after a little thought, he
negotiated the slope into Windy Corner, light of heart. The house was
again as it ought to be--cut off forever from Cecil's pretentious world.

He would find Miss Minnie down in the garden.

In the drawing-room Lucy was tinkling at a Mozart Sonata. He hesitated a
moment, but went down the garden as requested. There he found a mournful
company. It was a blustering day, and the wind had taken and broken the
dahlias. Mrs. Honeychurch, who looked cross, was tying them up,
while Miss Bartlett, unsuitably dressed, impeded her with offers of
assistance. At a little distance stood Minnie and the "garden-child," a
minute importation, each holding either end of a long piece of bass.

"Oh, how do you do, Mr. Beebe? Gracious what a mess everything is! Look
at my scarlet pompons, and the wind blowing your skirts about, and the
ground so hard that not a prop will stick in, and then the carriage
having to go out, when I had counted on having Powell, who--give every
one their due--does tie up dahlias properly."

Evidently Mrs. Honeychurch was shattered.

"How do you do?" said Miss Bartlett, with a meaning glance, as though
conveying that more than dahlias had been broken off by the autumn
gales.

"Here, Lennie, the bass," cried Mrs. Honeychurch. The garden-child, who
did not know what bass was, stood rooted to the path with horror. Minnie
slipped to her uncle and whispered that every one was very disagreeable
to-day, and that it was not her fault if dahlia-strings would tear
longways instead of across.

"Come for a walk with me," he told her. "You have worried them as much
as they can stand. Mrs. Honeychurch, I only called in aimlessly. I shall
take her up to tea at the Beehive Tavern, if I may."

"Oh, must you? Yes do.--Not the scissors, thank you, Charlotte, when
both my hands are full already--I'm perfectly certain that the orange
cactus will go before I can get to it."

Mr. Beebe, who was an adept at relieving situations, invited Miss
Bartlett to accompany