MRS. FOLYAT had her way--as when did she not?--and it was Gertrude, equipped cap-à-pie with new clothes, who went to stay with her uncle William at Sydenham, near the Crystal Palace. Therefore she was not of the party which grew out of Serge's promise to take Annette into the country on a Saturday. Annette had been unable to keep this entrancing project to herself. Minna had half suggested, half demanded, that she should be of the party. To square the number Serge had asked Basil Haslam, and Minna out of coquetry had invited Herbert Fry, Frederic's quondam Plymouth comrade, who had turned up on legal business, which, moving slowly, had kept him many weeks, so that, to while away the tedious hours, he had resumed relations with her. He was still "Apollyon," had an air of great prosperity, flattered Mrs. Folyat up to the eyes, so that he was altogether in her good graces, and she entertained hopes of his carrying Minna back with him to London. (He had told Frederic, but not Mrs. Folyat nor Minna that he was married.) To pair with either Haslam or Fry, as the case might be, Mary was included, and, in compassion for his forlornness in the absence of his "old, old love," Bennett Lawrie. Serge paid. Annette made up a great basket of provisions which Bennett Lawrie and Basil Haslam carried between them. Less than an hour's journey took them to a great river where they hired two boats--a double-sculler and a dinghy. Basil Haslam tried to manoeuvre Minna into the dinghy, but could not detach her from her "Apollyon," and was forced to relinquish the little boat to Serge and Annette, who jumped into it while the rest were arguing, pushed off, and rowed away up stream, leaving them to follow in the bigger boat. "Our party," said Serge, as he sent the little boat skimming over the water, while Annette dipped her fingers over the side and let the water gurgle up her arm. "But I'm glad the others came," answered Annette. "That boy Lawrie looks so pale." Serge made her take the rudder lines and taught her how to steer. "How red your hands are getting," he said. "It's the housework." "What a shame!" "Oh! I like it." "Better than governessing?" "Oh! much, much better. It's home, you see. And, of course, there's you. I often sit in your room when you're not there, and sometimes I look at the things. It must be wonderful to be able to--to draw." "Now, why?" "I don't quite know, only when you come to beautiful places like this it makes you want to--want to . . ." "Well?" "I don't quite know. . . . It's like growing . . ." "That's quite good. I'd like to know what you think of me, Annette?" "You're very puzzling. Sometimes I think you don't take anything seriously, but then I think it is because you are so different." "How different?" "Not like Frederic." Out of the bank near them scuttled a vole, and along and into a hole under the roots of a willow. Annette watched him eagerly, and then returned to Serge, and said: