. And she was quaint; she moved curiosity. With
all her beauty, she never seemed to think of her looks; and with all
her spirit and sense, she never seemed to talk but when she had
something to say; while yet, if anything in the conversation deserved
it, it was worth while to catch the sparkle of Dolly's eye and see her
face dimple. Nevertheless, she would often sit for a long time silent
at the table, when others were talking, and remind nobody voluntarily
of her presence.

Spring had come now, and London was filling; and Lawrence was hoping
for some gaieties that would draw Dolly out into society,
notwithstanding his secret confession about ball rooms. He wanted to
see how she would bear the great world, how she would meet it; but
still more he hoped to have some chance to make himself of importance
to her. And then the doctors decided that Mrs. Copley must go into the
country.

What was to be done? Mr. Copley could not quit London without giving up
his office. To any distance Mrs. Copley could not go without him. The
dilemma, which Lawrence at first had heard of with dismay, turned for
his advantage; or he hoped so. His father owned a cottage in a pretty
part of the country, not a great many miles from London, which cottage
just then was untenanted. Mr. Copley could run down there any day (so
could he); and Mrs. Copley would be in excellent air, with beautiful
surroundings. This plan was agreed to, and Lawrence hurried away to
make the needful arrangements with his father and at the cottage.

"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Copley, when all this was communicated to
her,--"why can't we go home?"

"Father is not ready for that, mother," Dolly said somewhat sadly.

"Where is this place you are talking of?"

"Down in Berkshire. Mr. St. Leger says you will be sure to like it."

"Mr. St. Leger doesn't know everything. Is the house furnished?"

"I believe so. Oh, I hope it will be very pleasant, mother dear. It's a
pretty place; and they say it will be very good for you."

"Who says so?"

"The doctors"

"_They_ don't know everything, either. I tell you what I believe would
do me good, Dolly, only your father never wants what I want, unless he
wants it at a different time; I should like to go travelling."

"Travelling!--Where?" Dolly exclaimed and inquired.

"Anywhere. I want a change. I am so tired of London, I could die! I
have swallowed dust and fog enough to kill me. I should like to go
where there is no dust. That