and sweet
marjoram, which were pleasant to the soul of Briggs, and reminded him of
roast goose on Christmas Day, with all its attendant succulent
delicacies. He paced the path slowly,--the light of the sinking sun
blazing gloriously on his plush breeches, silver cordons and
tassels,--for he was in full-dress livery in honor of the fete, and
looked exceedingly imposing. Now and then he glanced down at his calves
with mild approval,--his silk stockings fitted them well, and they had a
very neat and shapely appearance.

"I've developed," he murmured to himself. "There ain't a doubt about
it! One week of Country air, and I'm a different man;--the effecks of
overwork 'ave disappeared. Flopsie won't know these legs of mine when I
get back,--they've improved surprisingly." He stopped to survey a bed of
carrots. "Plenty of Cressy there," he mused. "Cressy's a noble soup, and
Flopsie makes it well,--a man might do wuss than marry Flopsie. She's a
widder, and a _leetle_ old--just a leetle old for me--but--" Here he
sniffed delicately at a sprig of thyme he had gathered, and smiled
consciously. Presently he perceived a small, plump, pretty figure
approaching him, no other than Britta, looking particularly charming in
a very smart cap, adorned with pink-ribbon bows, and a very elaborately
frilled muslin apron. Briggs at once assumed his most elegant and
conquering air, straightened himself to his full height and kissed his
hand to her with much condescension. She laughed as she came up to him,
and the dimples in her round cheeks appeared in full force.

"Well, Mr. Briggs," she said, "are you enjoying yourself?"

Briggs smiled down upon her benevolently. "I am!" he responded
graciously. "I find the hair refreshing. And you, Miss Britta?"

"Oh, I'm very comfortable, thank you!" responded Britta demurely, edging
a little away from his arm, which showed an unmistakable tendency to
encircle her waist,--then glancing at a basket she held full of grapes,
just cut from the hot house, she continued, "These are for the
supper-table. I must be quick, and take them to Mrs. Parton."

"Must you?" and Briggs asked this question with quite an unnecessary
amount of tenderness, then resuming his dignity, he observed, "Mrs.
Parton is a very worthy woman--an excellent 'ousekeeper. But she'll no
doubt excuse you for lingering a little, Miss Britta--especially in _my_
company."

Britta laughed again, showing her pretty little white teeth to the be