is your idea of play in an
out-of-the-way place like this, Mr. Copley?"

"Well--not a catechism," said he, slowly putting strawberries in his
mouth one after the other. "What's the matter with the place? I thought
it would just suit you. Isn't the air good?"

"Breathing isn't quite the only necessary of life," said his wife; "and
you were asking about play. I think a change would be play to me."

"Well, this is a change, or I don't know the meaning of the word.
You've just come, and have not examined the ground yet. Must have a
good market, if this fruit is any sign."

"There is no market or anything else, except what you can find in a
little village. The strawberries come from Brierley House, where Dolly
goes to get _her_ play. As for me, who cannot run about, on my feet, or
anyway, I sit here and wonder when she will be back again. Are we to
have no carriage here, Mr. Copley?"

"We had better find out how you like it first, seems to me. Hardly
worth while, if you're not going to stay."

Mr. Copley rose and sauntered out to the porch, and Dolly looked
furtively at her mother. She saw a troubled, anxious face, lines of
nervous unrest; she saw that her father's coming had not brought
refreshment or relief; and truly she did not perceive why it should.
Dolly was wholly inexperienced, in all but the butterfly life of very
happy young years; nevertheless, she could not fail to read, or at
least half read, some signs of another sort of life. She noticed that
her father's manner wanted its ordinary careless, confident ease; there
was something forced about it; his face bore tokens of loss of sleep,
and had a trait of uneasiness most unwonted in Mr. Copley. Dolly sat
still a little while, and then went out and joined her father in the
porch. Mr. St. Leger had come in, so that she did not leave her mother
alone. Dolly came close and laid her arm round her father's neck, her
fingers playing with his hair; while he fondly threw one arm about her.

"How is it, Dolly?" he asked. "Don't you like it here?"

"_I_ do, very much. But mother finds it very quiet. I think she would
like to travel, father."

"Travel! But I can't go travelling. I cannot get away from London for
more than a day. Quiet! I thought she wanted quiet. I heard of nothing
but her want of quiet, till I got her down here; and now she wants
noise."

"Not noise, exactly, but change."

"Well, what is this but change? as I said. I do not know what would
ple