Horace shook hands with Lottie, and uttered his neatly-worded birthday wishes. Her answer was indistinctly murmured, but she looked up at him, and he paused, struck as by something novel and splendid, when he encountered the dark fire of her eyes. "I left them wondering what had become of you," he said. "They thought you were wandering about alone somewhere, and had lost yourself." "Instead of which we met on the road, didn't we?" said Percival. "Yes," she answered indifferently.--"And you came to look for me?" "Of course. I was on my way to hunt up the town-crier and to make our loss known to the police. In half an hour's time we should have been dragging all the ponds." "I think I'd better go and set mamma's anxious mind at rest," said Lottie with a short laugh. "Good-bye for the present." She was gone in a moment, leaving the young men standing in the middle of the road. Horace made a movement as if to follow her, then checked himself and looked at his cousin. Percival made haste to speak: "So you have come down for the birthday-party, too? Where are you staying?" "Oh, the Blakes find me a bed. I'm off again to-morrow morning." "You are now at Scarborough with my aunt? I have it on Sissy's authority." "There's no occasion to disturb that faith," said Horace lightly. "Are you going into the town? I'll walk a little way with you." "You are not going to see them at Brackenhill before you leave?" Horace shook his head: "Say nothing about me. Did you tell them where you were going?" "No. I don't suppose they know of the Blakes' existence." "So much the better. _I'm_ not going to enlighten them." They strolled on side by side, and for a minute neither spoke. Horace was chafing because it had occurred to him that afternoon that Mrs. Blake seemed rather to take his devotion to Addie for granted. His path was made too smooth and obvious, and it was evident that the prize might be had for the asking. Consequently, Master Horace, who was not at all sure that he wanted it, was irritable and inclined to swerve aside. "Are not you playing a dangerous game?" said Percival. "Sooner or later some one will mention the fact of these visits to the squire, and there'll be a row." "Well, then, there _must_ be a row. It's uncommonly hard if I'm never to speak to any one without going to Brackenhill first to ask leave," said Horace discontentedly. "How should you like it yourself?" "Not at all." "No more do I. I'm tired of being in leading-strings, and the long and short of it is that I mean to have my own way in this, at any rate." "In _this_? Is this a matter of great importance, then? Horace, mind what you are after with the Blakes." "You're a nice consistent sort of fellow," said Horace. "Oh, you may call me what you like," Percival replied.