“It’s my respec’ful compliments to Mis’ Dorothy, sah,” answered the boy. “Thank you, Dick!” said the girl. “I appreciate the attention. But where is Ben?” “Bro’ Ben he dun got religion, Mis’ Dorothy, an’ he dun taken two blue pills las’ night, an’--” “Give him a dose of Epsom salts at once, Dick,” broke in Arthur, “or he’ll be salivated. And don’t give him oxalic acid by mistake. I’ll trouble you to keep your fingers out of the medicine chest hereafter. Come, Dorothy!” But as Dorothy was about to put her foot into Arthur’s hand and spring from it into the saddle, Dick drew forth a white handkerchief, heavily perfumed with a cooking extract of lemon, and offered it to Dorothy, saying: “You haint rubbed de hosses, Mis’ Dorothy, to see ef dey’s clean ’nuff fer dis suspicious occasion.” Dick probably meant “auspicious,” but he was accustomed, both in prose and in verse, to require complaisant submission to his will on the part of the English language. “Did you clean them, Dick?” asked Dorothy with a little laugh. “I’se proud to say I did,” answered the boy. “Then there is no need for me to rub them,” she replied. “You always do your work well. Your master tells me so. And now I want you to take this handkerchief of mine, and keep it for your own. I bought it in Paris, Dick. You can carry it in your breast pocket, with a corner of the lace protruding--sticking out, you know. And if you will come to me when we get back from our ride, I’ll give you a bottle of something better than a cooking extract to perfume it with.” With that the girl handed him a dainty, lace-edged mouchoir, for which she had paid half a hundred francs in Paris, and which she had carried at the Tuileries. “It is just in celebration of my home-coming,” she said to Arthur in explanation, “and because we are going to have one of our old ‘soon in the morning’ rides together.” As she mounted, Dorothy turned to Dick and commanded: “Turn the hounds loose, Dick, and put them on our track.” Then to Arthur: “It is a glorious morning, and I want the dogs to enjoy it.” The horses were full of the enthusiasm of the morning. They broke at once into a gallop, which neither of the riders was disposed to restrain. Five minutes later the hounds, bellowing as they followed the trail, overtook the riders. Dorothy brought her mare upon her haunches, and greeted the dogs as they leaped to caress her hands. Then she cracked her whip and blew her whistle, and sent the excited animals to heel, with moans and complainings on their part that they were thus banished from the immediate presence of their beloved mistress. “Your dogs still love and obey you, Dorothy,” said Arthur as they resumed their ride more soberly than before. “Yes,” she answered. “They are better in that respect than women are.” Arthur thought he understood. At any rate he accepted the remark as one implying an apology, and he saw no occasion for apology.