"Don't say 'he,' so confidently--I mean to win. Besides, are we starting fair? Of course I don't care an atom for you, but don't you care for me--just a little?" "I!" exclaimed Lawrence. "What an idea!" He laughed quite as naturally as Fanny herself. "Do you think that a man in love would propose such a game as we are talking about?" he asked. "I'm sure I don't know what to think," answered the young girl. "Perhaps I shall know in a day or two." She looked down, quite grave again, and pulled a bit of fern from the bank, and crushed it in her hand, and then smelled it. "Don't you like sweet fern?" she asked, holding it out to him. "I love it!" "That's why you crush it, I suppose," said Lawrence. "It doesn't smell sweet unless you do. Oh--I see! You were beginning to play the game. Very well. Why should we lose time about it? But I wish it were a little better defined. What is it we're going to do? Won't you explain? I'm so stupid about these things. Are we going to flirt for a bet?" "What a speech!" "Because it's a plain one? Is that why you object to it? After all, that's what we said." "We only said we'd play," answered Lawrence. "Whichever ends by caring must agree to marry the winner, if required. But I'm afraid the time is too short," he added, more gravely. "I've only a week more." "Only a week!" exclaimed Fanny, in a tone of disappointment. "Why, I thought there was ever so much more. That isn't nearly time enough." "We must play faster--and hope for 'situations,' as they call them on the stage." "Oh--the situation is bad enough, as it is," answered the young girl, with a change of manner that surprised her companion. "If you only knew!" "Was that what you were going to tell me about?" asked Lawrence, quickly, and with renewed interest. "I thought you were making game of me." "That's the trouble! You'll never believe that I'm in earnest, now. That's the worst of practical jokes. Come along! We must be going home. The sun's behind the hill and ever so low, I'm sure. We shan't get home before dusk. How sweet that fern smells! Give it back to me, won't you?" They rose and began to walk homeward in the warm shadow of the woods. As before, Fanny went first along the narrow path, and Lawrence, following close behind her, and watching the supple grace of her as she moved, breathed in also the intoxicating perfume of the aromatic sweet fern which she still carried in her hand. CHAPTER IX. On the following afternoon Fanny Trehearne announced her intention of riding with Mr. Brinsley. "I'd take you, too," she said to Lawrence, with a singularly cold stare. "Only as you can't ride much, you wouldn't enjoy it, you know." "Certainly not," answered Lawrence, returning her glance with all coolness. "I shouldn't enjoy it at all." "You might take my cousins out in the boat, instead."