It is difficult to dance on uneven ground, in the middle of the day, to the sound of an untuned old harp, and a violin held upside down, and scraped by a melancholy boy. But Isabel had her way, or rather took it, and they all set off somewhat vaguely for "the deepest woods," leaving the woodman's path, and following another track, which Isabel pronounced "such a dear little trail it must lead somewhere." The Reverend Ezra was disturbed. He thought he held them all under his own guidance, when, lo! they were not only leaving him and his orchid without a word of excuse, but were actually departing with a wandering harpist to find a level spot on which to dance! "I--I think that path leads only to an old quarry," he said, with a hesitating smile. But no one paid any attention to him, save Anne, who had paused also, uncertain what to do. "We will get the orchid afterward, Miss Douglas," said Dexter. "I promise that you shall have it." "But Mr. Sloane," said Anne, glancing toward the deserted missionary. "Come with us, dominie," said Dexter, with the ready good-nature that was one of his outward characteristics. It was a quick, tolerant good-nature, and seemed to belong to his broad, strong frame. But the dominie had a dignity of his own, after all. When he realized that he was forsaken, he came forward and said quietly that he would go up the mountain alone and get the orchid, joining them at the main-road crossing on the way back. "As you please," said Dexter. "And I, for one, shall feel much indebted to you, sir, if you bring back the flower, because I have promised Miss Douglas that she should have it, and should be obliged to go for it myself, ignorant as I am, were it not for your kindness." He raised his hat courteously, and went off with Anne to join the others, already out of sight. "I suppose he does not approve of the dancing," said the girl, looking back. But Dexter did not care whether he approved or disapproved; he had already dismissed the dominie from his mind.