some anxiety. "He should have been here an hour ago."
"I am going to the works. Let me have the pleasure of taking you. You have never properly seen the lake yet, from the hillside, which we are going to call Fiesole."
"No; I should be delighted to do so, but——"
"But what, Miss Elms?"
"I don't know."
"Well, I do. You think people will talk. Why should I not take whom I like for a drive? Such nonsense! We have come here to escape Mrs. Grundy. We refused her a block, and left her lamenting in town."
"But discretion is not nonsense."
"Look here, Gwyneth—I beg pardon—Miss Elms—you know I hate 'mistering' and 'missing' every one, as we are everlastingly doing. May I call you Gwyneth?"
The girl hesitated.
"Perhaps you might, when we are by ourselves."
"Gwyneth, what you and I do deliberately is right; that makes it so for us. Now, please, come at once like a good girl. I ought to be on my way."
"Just let me run and' put on my bonnet."
"Pray do not. I want you to come just as you are—the 'Gardener's Daughter.' You cannot improve upon Tennyson. Shall you leave the front door open?" he asked.
"Of course. Our doors and windows have no bolts. Happily we have left such insignia of modern life behind us. None here have need to steal—nor the inclination.—You said Willie might come," exclaimed Gwyneth as she passed out. She desired that some one should play propriety.
In a moment they were speeding down the avenue;
