'Well, I have no time to discuss the matter with you now. It is seven minutes to nine. I shall only have just time to catch the train by walking very fast. Good-bye.' 'Please, mam, any orders to-day for the butcher?' 'Always the same question--how tired I am of hearing the same words. I suppose it is very wicked of me to be so discontented,' thought Mildred, as she sat on the sofa with her key-basket in her hand; 'but I have got so tired of Sutton. I know I shouldn't bother Harold; he is very good and he does his best to please me. It is very odd. I was all right till Mrs. Fargus came, she upset me. It was all in my mind before, no doubt; but she brought it out. Now I can't interest myself in anything. I really don't care to go to this tennis party, and the people who go there are not in the least interesting. I am certain I should not meet a soul whom I should care to speak to. No, I won't go there. There's a lot to be done in the greenhouses, and in the afternoon I will write a long letter to Mrs. Fargus. She promised to send me a list of books to read.' There was nothing definite in her mind, but something was germinating within her, and when the work of the day was done, she wondered at the great tranquillity of the garden. A servant was there in a print dress, and the violet of the skies and the green of the trees seemed to be closing about her like a tomb. 'How beautiful!' Mildred mused softly; 'I wish I could paint that.' A little surprised and startled, she went upstairs to look for her box of water-colours; she had not used it since she left school. She found also an old block, with a few sheets remaining; and she worked on and on, conscious only of the green stillness of the trees and the romance of rose and grey that the sky unfolded. She had begun her second water-colour, and was so intent upon it as not to be aware that a new presence had come into the garden. Alfred Stanby was walking towards her. He was a tall, elegantly dressed, good-looking young man. 'What! painting? I thought you had given it up. Let me see.' 'Oh, Alfred, how you startled me!' He took the sketch from the girl's lap, and handing it back, he said: 'I suppose you had nothing else to do this afternoon; it was too hot to go out in the cart. Do you like painting?' 'Yes, I think I do.' They were looking at each other--and there was a questioning look in the girl's eyes--for she perceived in that moment more distinctly than she had before the difference in their natures. 'Have you finished the smoking cap you are making for me?' 'No; I did not feel inclined to go on with it.' Something in Mildred's tone of voice and manner struck Alfred, and, dropping his self-consciousness, he said: 'You thought that I'd like a water-colour sketch better.' Mildred did not answer. 'I should like to have some drawings to hang in the smoking-room when we're married. But I like figures better than landscapes. You never tried horses and dogs, did you?'