"You are looking for your love, Earle," said Mrs. Brace, in her kindly way. "She is a lazy love this morning. She is not down yet." "I am glad she is resting," said Earle, too loyal to allow even the faintest suspicion of idleness. Mrs. Brace laughed. "Doris leads a life very much like the lilies in the field," she said. "She neither toils nor spins. Mattie shall call her if you like." "No," said Earle. "I will wait until she comes." Then Mattie joined in the conversation. "Doris is tired this morning, Earle," she said, quietly. "She sat up quite late last night writing letters." "Letters!" repeated Earle, with a touch of pardonable jealousy. "To whom was she writing, Mattie?" And the girl who loved him so deeply and so silently detected the pain in his voice. She looked up at him with a smile. "To some schoolmates. She liked some of the girls very much." Then Earle was quite at ease. He sat for some time watching the sunlit scene, and the busy fingers among the scarlet fruit. At last, while the bees hummed drowsily, they heard the clock strike nine; and the sound seemed to die away over the flowers. "Nine," said Mrs. Brace, laughingly. "Mattie, you may be sure that Doris does not want to stain her fingers with the fruit. Go and tell her she need not touch it." Earle felt deeply grateful toward the woman. It was all very well, but even he did not like the idea of those sweet white hands all crimsoned with ripe fruit. "Tell her from me, Mattie," he added, "that the whole world will be dark and cold until I see her." Mattie hastened away with a low laugh on her lips at the extravagant words. She was absent some little time, and kindly Mrs. Brace, seeing that Earle looked anxious, entertained him in her simple fashion with many little anecdotes about Doris, her beauty and wit as a child, her pretty, imperious fashion of managing Mark. When Mattie returned she did not look anxious but surprised. "See how we have all misjudged Doris," she said; "she must have been up and out for some time." "Out!" repeated Earle. "Yes; she is not in her room, nor in the house. The morning is so fine, and so sweet, it has very probably tempted her." "But where can she have gone?" asked Earle. "I did not see her." "No; you came from Lindenholm, while she is most probably gone to post the letters she wrote last night; gone to Quainton." "Then I will go and meet her," said Earle. "But what a strange idea of her to go to Quainton alone. Why did she not wait for me?" He looked at Mattie as he spoke. She answered him with a smile. "When I can tell you what the birds are singing about," she said, "I shall be able to explain the caprices of Doris. Go and meet her; then you will understand." Once more Earle hurried off in the sunshine, leaving mother and daughter busy with the fruit. Mrs. Brace looked after him with a sigh.