ing it, viewed from his own stand-point. That
made no difference with her own.

After three or four days of the chaperon's open arrangement, it grew
into a custom for Heathcote to meet Anne at sunset in the garden, and
stroll up and down with her for half an hour. She was always there,
because she was sent there. Heathcote never said he would come again; it
was supposed to be by chance. But one evening Anne remarked frankly that
she was very glad he came; her grandaunt sent her out whether she wished
to come or not, and the resources of the small garden were soon
exhausted. They were sitting in an arbor at the end of the serpentine
walk. Heathcote, his straw hat on the ground, was braiding three spears
of grass with elaborate care.

"You pay rather doubtful compliments," he said.

"I only mean that it is very kind to come so regularly."

"You will not let even that remain a chance?"

"But it is not, is it?"

"Well, no," he answered, after a short silence, "I can not say that it
is." He dropped the grass blades, leaned back against the rustic seat,
and looked at her. It was a great temptation; he was a finished adept in
the art of flirtation at its highest grade, and enjoyed the pastime. But
he had not really opened that game with this young girl, and he said to
himself that he would not now. He leaned over, found his three spears of
grass, and went on braiding. But although he thus restrained himself, he
still continued to meet her, as Miss Vanhorn, with equal pertinacity,
continued to send her niece to meet him. They were not alone in the
garden, but their conversation was unheard.

One evening tableaux were given: Isabel, Rachel, and others had been
admired in many varieties of costume and attitude, and Dexter had been
everything from Richard the Lion-hearted to Aladdin. Heathcote had
refused to take part. And now came a tableau in which Anne, as the
Goddess of Liberty, was poised on a barrel mounted on three tables, one
above the other. This airy elevation was considered necessary for the
goddess, and the three tables were occupied by symbolical groups of the
Seasons, the Virtues, and the Nations, all gathered together under the
protection of Liberty on her barrel. Liberty, being in this case a
finely poised young person, kept her position easily, flag in hand,
while the merry groups were arranged on the tables below. When all was
ready, the curtain was raised, lowered, then raised again for a second
view, An