As she stopped to speak to and pet them, there came out from behind the lodge a small pony-cart, in which was seated a young girl. She was about seventeen, with a pretty, innocent face, from which a pair of soft, brown eyes looked out appealingly. It was the lodge-keeper’s daughter. She colored with timid pleasure at the sight of Olivia, and pulled up the pony, who resented the operation, and made the courtesy she attempted an impossibility. “Why, Bessie!” said Olivia, going up to the side of the cart. “Are you going for a drive?” “Yes, miss,” replied the girl, with respectful affection alike in her eyes and in her voice. “I am going to Wainford for father.” “To Wainford?” said Olivia. “I am almost tempted to go with you.” “Oh, Miss Olivia,” murmured the girl, with a rapturous delight, “if you would!” Olivia shook her head laughingly. “I’m afraid I mustn’t, Bessie. Wainford is too far; I should be late for dinner, and the squire would never forgive either of us. Never mind,” she added, consolingly, as Bessie’s face fell from the dizzy heights of eagerness to the uttermost depths of disappointment; “I will go some other time. I have often wanted to have a ride with you behind that famous pony. What a restless little monkey it is! Take care of him, Bessie! But I suppose you understand each other?” “Oh, yes, Miss Olivia!” said Bessie. “And you won’t come?” with a sigh. “Well! Is there anything I can do for you, miss? Anything I can bring you?” Olivia was about to shake her head, when, divining that the girl would be somewhat consoled for her disappointment if she had some errand to perform, she said: “Oh, yes, Bessie! Will you bring me a yard of ribbon to match this on my hat?” “Yes, miss,” said Bessie, brightening up. “To match exactly?” “Oh, near will do” said Olivia. “Stay!” And, taking off her hat, she clipped a piece of ribbon off a bow. “There, as near as you can get it. I hope you will have a pleasant drive, and remember I am coming with you some day--soon.” “Oh, do, miss!” Bessie exclaimed, or rather jerked out, for the pony, having completely exhausted its patience, declined to wait any longer over such trivialities, and dashed off; and Olivia stood watching Bessie’s frantic efforts to reduce the gallop to a trot, until the pony and its pretty, innocent-faced mistress were lost in a bend of the road. Then, all unconsciously, though she was thinking of Mr. Sparrow’s account of the new owner of The Dell, Olivia wandered in that direction, and it was almost with a start that she found herself within a few yards of the gate, through which, according to Mr. Sparrow, no female would be allowed to pass.