ng in the sun. The room had been evidently furnished
for her especial use. There was a couch in one corner, a cottage piano
in another, and a writing-table near the window.

"The old master bought those things for his bride," said Granny
Grimshaw. "They are just as good as new yet, and Master Jeff has had the
piano put in order for you. I expect you know how to play the piano, my
dear?"

Doris went forward into the room. The tears were not far from her eyes.
"He is too good to me. He is much too good," she said.

"Ah, my dear, and you'll be good to him too, won't you?" said Granny
Grimshaw coaxingly.

"I'll do my best," said Doris quietly.

She went down to Jeff in the stable-yard a little later with a heart
brimming with gratitude, but that strange, new shyness was with her
also. She did not know how to give him her thanks.

He was waiting for her, and escorted her across to the stable. "You will
like to see your mount," he said, cutting her short almost before she
had begun.

She followed him into the stable. Jeff's own mare poked an inquiring
nose over the door of her loose-box. Doris stopped to fondle her. Jeff
plunged a hand into his pocket and brought out some sugar.

From the stall next to them came a low whinny. Doris, in the act of
feeding the mare, looked up sharply. The next moment with a little cry
she had sprung forward and was in the stall with her arms around the
neck of its occupant--a big bay, who nozzled against her shoulder with
evident pleasure.

"Oh, Hector! Hector!" she cried. "However did you come here?"

"I bought him," said Jeff, "as a wedding present."

"For me? Oh, Jeff!" She left Hector and came to him with both hands
outstretched. "Oh, Jeff, I don't know how to thank you. You are so much
too good. What can I say?"

He took the hands and gripped them. His dark eyes looked straight and
hard into hers, and a little tremor went through her. She lowered her
own instinctively, and in the same instant he let her go. He did not
utter a word, and she turned from him in silence with a face on fire.

She made no further effort to express her gratitude.

CHAPTER VII

THE END OF THE PICNIC

Those odd silences of Jeff's fell very often throughout the day, and
they lay upon Doris's spirit like a physical weight. They rode through
autumn woodlands, and picnicked on the side of a hill. The day was warm
and sunny, and the whole world shone as through a pearly veil. There
were blac