t it though he talked of other things.
Neither did Faith forget it. Yet she laughed at Mr. Linden and with
him; though as far as conversation was concerned she took a secondary
part. She started no subject whatever, of the least moment.

Subjects started of themselves--in numbers somewhat like the little
butterflies that roused out of the clover as the intruding feet came
by,--about as airy, about as flitting, not quite so purposeless. And
thus in a way more summery than summary, Mr. Linden and Faith arrived
at the shore. He found a shady seat for her, and with no "by your
leave," except in manner, transferred her bonnet to an airy situation
on a wild thorn.

"Mignonette, do you know what I mean to do with you after Thursday?"

"No, Endecott."--

"I shall put you before me on the wooden horse spoken of in the fairy
tale, turn the pin under his right ear, and be off."

"What's that story!"--said Faith, looking round at him (he was standing
behind her) with the prettiest of bright flushed faces.

"An authentic account of how a prince carried off a princess."

"How did he?"

"Got her consent first--(couldn't get anybody's else, but that did not
matter)--ordered some one to bring the wooden horse to the front of the
palace, placed her and himself as aforesaid, turned the pin, and
disappeared from the curious eyes of the whole court. The story goes on
to state that they both enjoyed the ride."

"Was that what you meant when you asked me if I liked travelling in
cars?--" said Faith, a very little laugh speaking her sense of the
application.

"Quick witted little princess!" said Mr. Linden. "The horse that
refuses to carry double for your service, shall be dismissed from mine."

"But I don't see much, yet," said Faith. "I don't understand the story
nor you. I think you have taken me a great many rides on that horse."

"Not en princesse," said Mr. Linden smiling. "The story is very simple,
my dear. After shewing his wife various places of interest, and letting
his friends see her, the prince arrives at home. It is said that he
then finds his fortune--but I think that part of the story is fabulous,
so don't set your heart upon it."

"That's the story--but what do you mean, Endy?"

"To give you such a ride. I mean that I am the prince, and that you
(will be) the princess, who shall do all these things."

Faith jumped up. "Do you!"--

"Truly I do, dear Mignonette."

Faith's face was changing. The undoubted joy