"I shall stay at home, thank you," says Harriet, smiling. "I know I am letting myself down in your estimation horribly, but I confess I detest long drives. I believe I detest anything lengthened. I am naturally fickle." (She is the most sincere creature alive.) "I shall enjoy lounging about at home, looking at the flowers, and reading, and that." "Indeed, Harriet, you shall not," cry I, impetuously. "We would all be miserable without you." "That's a fact, Lady Handcock," puts in Chips, heartily. "Chippendale, you almost make me relent," says Harriet, smiling. "But"--in a piteous aside to me--"do not compel me to go. It is twelve miles there, and twelve miles back, if it is a yard; just think of that. My poor back would not stand it. James shall go and represent me." "Why not change the place, and name a spot nearer home?" says Dora, quietly. Dora always does the correct thing. "Just so," exclaims Sir George, who would have thought Jericho a very convenient spot had Dora so named it. "We have another Wishing Well somewhere in the neighborhood; eh, 'Duke?" "The Deacon's Well," says Sir Mark, "is only seven miles from this. Would that be too far, Lady Handcock?" "I shall be quite unhappy if you make me the disturber of the peace," says Harriet, in comic despair. "Let me stay at home; I shall do very well; and at present I feel ashamed of myself." "Nonsense!" says 'Duke. "If you don't come willingly we shall carry you. So you may at well make up your mind to visit the Deacon." "And it is really the prettier well of the two," says Blanche, gracefully, as she sees her cause fall to the ground. "Then you and Blanche can keep each ether company on the coach, Phyllis, and any one else that likes. Thornton shall have the horn; it is about the one instrument on which he can perform with marked success." "I shall take the phaeton and ponies," say I, quietly "They have not been out for two days, and it will do them good. Exercise is the only thing that keeps them in order." "Oh, nonsense, Phyllis! you will find it much pleasanter with Blanche and the rest of us." "Without doubt; but then I have set my heart on driving my ponies. They are my hobby at present; so you must excuse my bad taste if I say I prefer being with them to even the good company you mention. That is, if I can get any one to come and take care of me." "I shall be most happy, Mrs. Carrington, if you will accept me as your escort," says Sir Mark, instantly, as though desirous of being the first to offer his services. Blanche Going raises her head and regards him fixedly. In the velvet softness of her dark eyes shines for an instant an expression that is half reproach, half passionate anger; only for an instant; then turning her glance on me, she meets my gaze full, and sneers unmistakably. I feel radiant, triumphant. At least I have it in my power to give her sting for sting.