"I must get to my work," said Serge. He kissed his mother and patted her shoulder, and stayed with her until she had dried her eyes and looked up at him with a watery smile. Later in the morning, hearing Annette in the next room, he called to her, and when she came he asked her: "Does mother read father's letters?" "She reads any letters she can find. I don't think she can help it," said Annette, blushing for her own lapse. "Wicked old woman," chuckled Serge. "Would you like a day in the country, one Saturday, Annette?" "I should love it more than anything." "You shall have it. You're the only person in this house who deserves well of the world, and to taste the sweetness of things. Possibly you're the only person who can." "I would like," said Annette, "I would like to go to a river." "So you shall, the very best river we can find." "You're very good to me, Serge." Annette was too busy to stay talking. Serge turned to his work and she strode away. * * * As Francis had promised, so it was done. Serge found rooms for Annie Lipsett in a not too dull village. Her mother's lodgers were told that she was run down and going away for a change, and would be away for three months. They received the intelligence with about as much interest as though they had been told that the ceilings needed whitewashing--as they did--and Annie went away. The only condition that had been made was that she should not write to Frederic. Her mother shed a great many tears, but promised to come and see her once a week and to be near her when her time came. Frederic was received with open arms by his prospective father, mother and sisters-in-law. The Clibran-Bells and the Folyats joined in rejoicing over him, and he found himself doomed to slavery. He affected the attitude of the devoted swain, and every minute of his day, outside his working hours, was given to Jessie, her mother, her sisters, her father, her brother, her cat. He went nowhere alone with her. He went nowhere without her. . . . They were to be married as soon as he was earning three hundred a year. He looked ahead and saw no prospect of it. He became very envious of people who were happy. XVIII EXCURSION _Enter these enchanted woods, You who dare!_ THE WOODS OF WESTERMAIN