itor, while
we were at work, enjoyed her customary scamper on the pony, and her
customary rambles afterward in the neighborhood of the house. Although
I had interruptions to contend with on the part of Owen and Morgan,
neither of whom possessed my experience in the production of what heavy
people call "light literature," and both of whom consequently wanted
assistance, still I made great progress, and earned my hours of repose
on the evening of the second day.

On that evening I risked the worst, and opened my negotiations for the
future with "The Queen of Hearts."

About an hour after the tea had been removed, and when I happened to be
left alone in the room with her, I noticed that she rose suddenly and
went to the writing-table. My suspicions were aroused directly, and I
entered on the dangerous subject by inquiring if she intended to write
to her aunt.

"Yes," she said. "I promised to write when the last week came. If you
had paid me the compliment of asking me to stay a little longer, I
should have returned it by telling you I was sorry to go. As it is, I
mean to be sulky and say nothing."

With those words she took up her pen to begin the letter.

"Wait a minute," I remonstrated. "I was just on the point of begging you
to stay when I spoke."

"Were you, indeed?" she returned. "I never believed in coincidences of
that sort before, but now, of course, I put the most unlimited faith in
them!"

"Will you believe in plain proofs?" I asked, adopting her humor. "How do
you think I and my brothers have been employing ourselves all day to-day
and all day yesterday? Guess what we have been about."

"Congratulating yourselves in secret on my approaching departure," she
answered, tapping her chin saucily with the feather-end of her pen.

I seized the opportunity of astonishing her, and forthwith told her
the truth. She started up from the table, and approached me with the
eagerness of a child, her eyes sparkling, and her cheeks flushed.

"Do you really mean it?" she said.

I assured her that I was in earnest. She thereupon not only expressed
an interest in our undertaking, which was evidently sincere, but, with
characteristic impatience, wanted to begin the first evening's reading
on that very night. I disappointed her sadly by explaining that we
required time to prepare ourselves, and by assuring her that we should
not be ready for the next five days. On the sixth day, I added, we
should be able to begin, and t