When I woke, at half-past twelve, Eliza was not there. She returned in a few minutes, and said that she had been doing the church over again. "That was hardly necessary," I observed. "Oh, one must do something, and there's nothing else to do." "On the contrary, there's luncheon. We'll have that at once, so as to give us a good long afternoon." "The afternoon will be long enough," she said. If I had not known that she was having a day's enjoyment, I should have thought that she seemed rather dejected in her manner. * * * * * The luncheon at the village inn was not expensive. Eliza said that their idea of chops was not her idea; but all the same she seemed inclined to spin the thing out and make it last as long as possible. I deprecated this, as I felt that I could not very well take my boots off again until I had returned to the field. "Very well, then," she said. "Only let's go back slowly." "As slowly as you like," I replied. "It's the right boot principally; but I prefer to walk slowly." When we had resumed our old position under the hedge, and I had removed my boots, I said: "Now, then, I think I've earned a pipe and a short nap. You amuse yourself in any way you like." "Do _what_ with myself?" she asked, rather sharply. She walked twice round the field, and then I fell off to sleep. It turned out afterward that she also did the picturesque old church for the third time, and went over a house which was to let, refusing to take it on the ground that there was no bath-room. This was rather dishonest, as she would not have taken it if there had been a bath-room, or even two bath-rooms. I would not do that kind of thing myself. I awoke about tea-time. The charge for tea at the inn was very moderate, though Eliza said that there was tea which was tea, and tea which was an insult. Eliza found that there was a train back at half-past six, and said she was going by it, whether I did or not, because it was a pity to have too much of a good thing, and she hadn't the face to ask for the keys of that church again. I accompanied her. I fancy that the brown leather is liable to shrink in the sun, and I was not unwilling to get back to my slippers and stretch myself out on the sofa. There is nothing like a long day in the country; quite apart from the enjoyment, you feel that it is doing you so much good. I am sorry that Eliza did not seem to enter into the spirit of the thing more. THE MUSHROOM