you get tired of it, Miss Kilner."

"I am not tired of it yet," she said hurriedly, half afraid that he
would go too far. "It is a place to remember and dream of on a November
day in London."

"Do you realise that we are not very far from November?" Francis said.
"We are only divided from that dreaded month by September and October.
And they will go by like a dream; they always do. 'Gather ye rosebuds
while ye may.'"

"I've been gathering them ever since I came here, Mr. Ryan. Don't talk
of November now; I hate it."

"I should not hate it," he murmured, "if we could spend it together."

"Here is Mrs. Lennard looking for me," exclaimed Elsie hastily. "I have
lost sight of her too long."

She went quickly towards her old friend, who received her with
questioning eyes.

"You are getting too warm, my dear," Mrs. Lennard said. "Come and sit
down in a cool spot. Mrs. Appleby has been wanting to chat with you; she
knew your mother years ago."

Elsie found Mrs. Appleby on a camp-stool under the beeches, and sank
down on the grass by her side. Mrs. Lennard took possession of Jamie,
and kept him quiet by telling him an enchanting story.

The talk about old days soothed Elsie, and brought her, unawares, into a
better state of mind. Mrs. Appleby knew nothing of the storm that she
was helping to still. She chatted on, pleasantly and calmly, about those
who had done with all storms for ever and ever; and by-and-by the young
woman beside her began to remember that the struggle is short, and the
rest long.

They were drinking tea under the trees when the wanderers came dropping
in, by twos and threes, from all points of the compass. Among the latest
were Arnold and Mrs. Verdon--a goodly pair.

People smiled furtively, and exchanged meaning glances when these two
arrived. Arnold's eyes sought for the person who still interested him
above all others, in spite of the shock she had given him. His heart was
comforted when he saw her sitting quietly under a gigantic beech by an
old lady's side.

"Dear Elsie," Jamie whispered, "I've had enough tea. It'll soon be my
bedtime. Take me down to the boat and let me have just one row more, and
then give me to nurse."

At the same moment Mrs. Lennard was addressing Francis in her most
persuasive voice.

"Dear Mr. Ryan, you are doing nothing, and we are all so comfortably
idle here in the shade. It will be most kind if you will hold my skein
of yarn."

The young man held out his