Mrs. Cameron stood still, regarding her with moistened eyes. Just at that moment Kenelm entered through the garden gate. He, too, stood still, his eyes fixed on the undulating movements of Fairy’s exquisite form. She had arrested her favourite, and was now at play with it, shaking off her straw hat, and drawing the ribbon attached to it tantalizingly along the smooth grass. Her rich hair, thus released and dishevelled by the exercise, fell partly over her face in wavy ringlets; and her musical laugh and words of sportive endearment sounded on Kenelm’s ear more joyously than the thrill of the skylark, more sweetly than the coo of the ring-dove. He approached towards Mrs. Cameron. Lily turned suddenly and saw him. Instinctively she smoothed back her loosened tresses, replaced the straw hat, and came up demurely to his side just as he had accosted her aunt. “Pardon my intrusion, Mrs. Cameron. I am the bearer of this note from Mrs. Braefield.” While the aunt read the note, he turned to the niece. “You promised to show me the picture, Miss Mordaunt.” “But that was a long time ago.” “Too long to expect a lady’s promise to be kept?” Lily seemed to ponder that question, and hesitated before she answered. “I will show you the picture. I don’t think I ever broke a promise yet, but I shall be more careful how I make one in future.” “Why so?” “Because you did not value mine when I made it, and that hurt me.” Lily lifted up her head with a bewitching stateliness, and added gravely, “I was offended.” “Mrs. Braefield is very kind,” said Mrs. Cameron; “she asks us to dine the day after to-morrow. You would like to go, Lily?” “All grown-up people, I suppose? No, thank you, dear aunt. You go alone, I would rather stay at home. May I have little Clemmy to play with? She will bring Juba, and Blanche is very partial to Juba, though she does scratch him.” “Very well, my dear, you shall have your playmate, and I will go by myself.” Kenelm stood aghast. “You will not go, Miss Mordaunt; Mrs. Braefield will be so disappointed. And if you don’t go, whom shall I have to talk to? I don’t like grown-up people better than you do.” “You are going?” “Certainly.” “And if I go you will talk to me? I am afraid of Mr. Braefield. He is so wise.” “I will save you from him, and will not utter a grain of wisdom.” “Aunty, I will go.” Here Lily made a bound and caught up Blanche, who, taking her kisses resignedly, stared with evident curiosity upon Kenelm.