"Just along the roads, you know. But when you get out to Sherwood there are meadows and things--with a brook. That is very fair." "Do you still go to Sherwood often? How is Sybil?" "Yes," said Ronald, and a blush rose quickly to his face, "I often go there. It is such a queer old place, you know, full of trees and old summer-houses and graveyards--awfully funny." "Tell me, Ronald," said Joe, insisting a little, "how is Sybil?" "She looks very well, so I suppose she is. But she never goes to anything in Newport; she has not been in the town at all yet, since she went to stay with her uncle." "But of course lots of people go out to see her, do they not?" "Oh, well, not many. In fact I do not remember to have met any one there," answered Ronald, as though he were trying to recall some face besides Miss Brandon's. "Her uncle is such an odd bird, you have no idea." "I do not imagine you see very much of him when you go out there," said Joe, with a faint laugh. "Oh, I always see him, of course," said Ronald, blushing again. "He is about a hundred years old, and wears all kinds of clothes, and wanders about the garden perpetually. But I do not talk to him unless I am driven to it"-- "Which does not occur often," interrupted Joe. "Oh, well, I suppose not very often. Why should it?" Ronald was visibly embarrassed. Joe watched him with a look of amusement on her face; but affectionately, too, as though what he said pleased her as well as amused her. There was a short pause, during which Ronald rubbed his hat slowly and gently. Then he looked up suddenly and met Joe's eyes; but he turned away again instantly, blushing redder than ever. "Ronald," Joe said presently, "I am so glad." "Glad? Why? About what?" "I am glad that you like her, and that she likes you. I think you like her very much, Ronald." "Oh yes, very much," repeated Ronald, trying to seem indifferent. "Do you not feel as though we were much more like brother and sister now?" asked Joe, after a little while. "Oh, much!" assented Ronald. "I suppose it is better, too, though I did not think so at first." "It is far better," said Joe, laying her small, thin hand across her cousin's strong fingers and pressing them a little. "You are free now, and you will probably be very happy before long. Do you not think so?" she asked, looking affectionately into his eyes. "I hope so," said Ronald, with a last attempt at indifference. Then suddenly his face softened, and he added in a gentler tone, "Indeed, Joe, I think I shall be very happy soon." "I am so glad," said Joe again, still holding his hand, but leaning her head back wearily in the deep chair. "There is only one thing that troubles me." "What is that?" "That horrid will," said Joe. "I am sure we could get it altered in some way." "We never thought about it before, Joe. Why should we think about it now? It seems to me it is a very good will as things have turned out."