"There's a flash in your eye and a ring to your voice, occasionally, which made me suspect that you had fire and energy enough if you only chose to show it, and the spirit with which you have just executed the 'Morgan Quickstep' proves that I was right," returned Belle, laughing. "Then I am not altogether a 'peacock'?" said Lennox, significantly, for during the chat, which had been as brisk as the walk, Belle had given his besetting sins several sly hits, and he couldn't resist one return shot, much as her unexpected compliment pleased him. Poor Belle blushed up to her forehead, tried to look as if she did not understand, and gladly hid her confusion behind the recovered veil without a word. There was a decided display both of the "flash" and the "ring," as Lennox looked at the suddenly subdued young lady, and, quite satisfied with his retaliation, gave the order, "Forward, march!" which brought them to the garden-gate breathless, but better friends than before. The next time the young people met, Belle was in such a hurry that she went round the corner with an abstracted expression which was quite a triumph of art. Just then, off tumbled the lid of the basket she carried; and Lennox, rescuing it from a puddle, obligingly helped readjust it over a funny collection of bottles, dishes, and tidy little rolls of all sorts. "It's very heavy, mayn't I carry it for you?" he asked, in an insinuating manner. "No, thank you," was on Belle's lips; but, observing that he was dressed with unusual elegance to pay calls, she couldn't resist the temptation of making a beast of burden of him, and took him at his word. "You may, if you like. I've got more bundles to take from the store, and another pair of hands won't come amiss." Lennox lifted his eyebrows, also the basket; and they went on again, Belle very much absorbed in her business, and her escort wondering where she was going with all that rubbish. Filling his unoccupied hand with sundry brown paper parcels, much to the detriment of the light glove that covered it, Belle paraded him down the main street before the windows of the most aristocratic mansions, and then dived into a dirty back-lane, where the want and misery of the town was decorously kept out of sight. "You don't mind scarlet fever, I suppose?" observed Belle, as they approached the unsavory residence of Biddy O'Brien. "Well, I'm not exactly partial to it," said Lennox, rather taken aback. "You needn't go in if you are afraid, or speak to me afterwards, so no harm will be done--except to your gloves." "Why do _you_ come here, if I may ask? It isn't the sort of amusement I should recommend," he began, evidently disapproving of the step. "Oh, I'm used to it, and like to play nurse where father plays doctor. I'm fond of children and Mrs. O'Brien's are little dears," returned Belle, briskly, threading her way between ash-heaps and mud-puddles as if bound to a festive scene.