r drop her bracelet, to make young Stiffneck pick it
up? Do you know that she takes morning walks with Colonel Chanticleer,
and evening strolls with Bob Bulbul? She chatters, she laughs, she
flirts, she makes eyes; she's bad style, she's an odious woman; 'pon
my word, I don't know whether mamma will go on visiting her!"

And why should the world make this dead set at poor Mrs. Peony? She is
good-looking, soft-hearted, and unaffected; she laughs when she is
pleased, and cries when she is touched. She is altogether frank, and
natural, and womanly. Can these be good reasons for running her down?
Heavens knows! but run down she is, just as the hypocritical Lady
Straitlace is cried up. Well, we must take things as they are and make
the best of them. So Frank and I walked on through the pleasant fields
in the darkening twilight, and I, for one, enjoyed it excessively, and
was quite sorry when a great bell sounding from the house warned us
that it was time to return, and that our absence would too surely be
the subject of remark should we linger out of doors any longer. I
never knew Frank so agreeable; on every topic he was brilliant, and
lively, and amusing. Only once, in some casual remark about the
future, there was a shade of melancholy in his tone, more like what he
used to be formerly. Somehow, I don't think I liked him so well in his
best spirits; perhaps I was myself changed in the last few weeks. I
used often to think so. At first, during that walk, I feared lest
Frank should touch upon a topic which would have been far from
unwelcome a short time ago. I soon saw he had not the slightest
intention of doing so, and I confess I was immensely relieved. I had
dreaded the possibility of being obliged at last to give a decided
answer--of having my own fate in my own hands, and feeling totally
incapable of choosing for myself. But I might have spared my nerves
all such misgivings: my cavalier never gave me an opportunity of even
fancying myself in such a dilemma till just as we reached the house,
when, espying Mrs. Lumley and Miss Molasses returning from _their_
stroll, he started, coloured up a little, like a guilty man, and acted
as though he would have escaped their notice. I was provoked.

"Don't desert your colours, Captain Lovell," I said, in a firm voice;
"Miss Molasses is looking for you, even now."

"Unfeeling," muttered Frank, biting his lip, and looking really
annoyed. "O Miss Coventry! O Kate! give me an opport