Paul Charteris felt no desire to follow their example; probably Hazel would settle herself at too great a distance, and become lost in her book. Neither did he wish to close his eyes, for the real was even more charming than the imaginary Hazel. So, marking that she, too, seemed in no wise disposed for idleness—for she was flitting hither and thither among the trees in restless but evident enjoyment, plucking a flower, cooing to a wood-pigeon, extricating with deft tenderness two creeping plants one from the other, giving to each a fresh start in its race upon the tree-trunk to which they clung—he begged to be taken to the old oak-tree, the wood-nymph’s home, to have its many beauties expounded to him. Accordingly the two, unnoticed by the napping Le Mesurier boys, set forth at so goodly a pace that at length Paul cried out in remonstrance, fearful lest such business-like locomotion should see them back to the starting-point within the space of a few minutes. "Are you so hot?" Hazel asked pitifully. "How thoughtless of me! But I am quite cool—feel," and, craning her slender neck towards him, she tilted her head, that he might the more readily touch her soft cheek and thereby prove the truth of her assertion. And Paul, nothing loth, delicately stroked the pink cheek once down to the pretty chin; nor durst he linger in the delicious contact, for the girl’s spontaneity, bespeaking as it did liking for and trust in himself, however unconsciously bestowed, was as sweet as it was precious to the young man, and woe be to him if word or action of his should startle her voluntary friendship, should cause her to shrink within herself, away from him. Unspeakable happiness might one day be his, if he possessed his soul in patience, and fostered the pretty trust that might daily, all unknowingly, draw nearer, cling closer, till time should ripen friendship into a sweet consciousness, and he might pluck the beauteous flower and wear it for all eternity within his breast. In the meantime he would gratefully, thankfully, sun himself in her esteem. "Beautifully cool," he murmured slowly. "But do not blame yourself," he went on. "I am not uncomfortably warm—only—it is rather a nice little walk—that is to say, I do not often have you to myself; I don’t want to get back too soon." "You find it companionable, just we two by ourselves," Hazel said ingenuously, by way of making explanation to the young man of his own hardly comprehended reasons for enjoyment. "Yes," Paul said demurely, "I find it companionable." "Thank you," Hazel returned politely. "I like it, too; though I am never happier than when I have all the five boys roaming about with me," she added, with blunt but perfect truth. "I suppose you don’t remember much of Cecil and Guy?" "I remember them perfectly," Paul averred. "Is it long since you saw them?"