ens. Now I happen to love"--

Francesca hung out a scarlet flag in each cheek, and I was about to
say, "Don't mind me!" when he continued:--

"As I was saying, I happen to love 'Sir Patrick Spens,'--it is my
favorite ballad; so, with your permission, I will take the gown, and
you can find something less valuable for a sail!"

I could never understand just why Francesca was so annoyed at being
discovered in our innocent game. Of course she was prone on Mother
Earth and her tresses were much disheveled, but she looked lovely,
after all, in comparison with me, the humble "supe" and
lightning-change artist; yet I kept my temper,--at least I kept it
until the Reverend Ronald observed, after escorting us through the gap
in the wall, "By the way, Miss Hamilton, there was a gentleman from
Paris at your cottage, and he is walking down the road to meet you."

Walking down the road to meet me, forsooth! Have ministers no brains?
The Reverend Mr. Macdonald had wasted five good minutes with his
observations, introductions, explanations, felicitations, and
adorations, and meantime, regardez-moi, messieurs et mesdames, s'il
vous plait! I have been a Noroway dog, a ship-builder, and a gallant
sailorman; I have been a gurly sea and a towering gale; I have crawled
from beneath broken anchors, topsails, and mizzenmasts to a strand
where I have been a suffering lady plying a gowd kaim. My skirt of
blue drill has been twisted about my person until it trails in front;
my collar is wilted, my cravat untied; I have lost a stud and a
sleeve-link; my hair is in a tangled mass, my face is scarlet and
dusty--and a gentleman from Paris is walking down the road to meet
me!

XVIII

"There were three ladies in a hall--
With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay,
There came a lord among them all--
As the primrose spreads so sweetly."

_The Cruel Brother_.

Willie Beresford has come to Pettybaw, and that Arcadian village has
received the last touch that makes it Paradise.

We are exploring the neighborhood together, and whichever path we take
we think it lovelier than the one before. This morning we drove to
Pettybaw Sands, Francesca and Salemina following by the footpath and
meeting us on the shore. It is all so enchantingly fresh and green on
one of these rare bright days: the trig lass bleaching her "claes" on
the grass by the burn near the little stone bridge; the wild
partridges whirring abou