tic country girl wore, better than the
choicest production of Worth?

"Yes, miss," Jessie went on, "and Susie says that Mr. Stafford, the
lord's son"--the simple dale folk as often called Sir Stephen "my lord"
as "sir"--"danced ever so many times with her, and the servants was
saying that he was making love to her, and that they shouldn't be
surprised to hear that Mr. Stafford was going to marry Miss Falconer."

Ida could not prevent the colour rising to her face, but she laughed
unforcedly, and with no misgiving; for she had looked into Stafford's
eyes and read his soul through them. He was hers, let all the women in
the world be beautiful and decked in silks and satins.

She ran upstairs to put on her habit, leaving Jessie rather
disappointed at the effect of her news, and she sang while she tied the
little scarlet sailor's knot, and presently came down the stairs with a
step as light as her heart. As she was mounting and talking to Jason
about the last lot of steers, Mr. Wordley came out of the house to get
his horse, and hurried to her, bare-headed, in the good old way.

"No, I can't stay," he said in answer to her invitation. "I have to be
back at the office; but I'll ride a little way with you, if I may. It
isn't often I get the chance of riding with the prettiest girl in the
county. There now, I've made you blush, as I used to when you sat upon
my knee, and I told you that little girls had no right to stars for
eyes."

Ida laughed.

"But I'm a big girl now," she said, "and too old for compliments;
besides, lawyers should always speak the truth."

"For goodness sake! don't spread that theory, my dear, or we shall all
have to put our shutters up," he retorted, with mock alarm.

He got on his old red-roan rather stiffly, and they rode out of the
court-yard and on to the road, where, be sure, Ida's "star-like" eyes
swept the hills and the valleys lest perchance a young man should be
riding there. They rode in silence for a few minutes, during which the
old lawyer seemed very thoughtful, and glanced at her sideways, as if
he were trying to make up his mind about something. At last he said,
with an affectation of casualness:

"Father been pretty well of late, my dear?"

Ida hesitated for a moment. She could not bring herself to tell even
Mr. Wordley of her father's painful habit of walking in his sleep.

"Yes," she said, "fairly well. Sometimes he is rather restless and
irritable as if he were worried. Has