“I 'll promise you a full basket before four o'clock,” broke in Tom. “I 'll promise you a full sketch-book,” said Lucy, with one of her sweetest smiles. “And I 'm going to refuse both; for I have a plan of my own, and a plan not to be gainsaid.” “I know it, You want us to go to work on that fish-pond. I'm certain it's that.” “No, Tom; it's the catalogue,--the weary catalogue that he told me, as a punishment for not being able to find Machiavelli's comedies last week, he 'd make me sit down to on the first lovely morning that came.” “Better that than those dreary Georgics which remind one of school, and the third form. But what 's your plan, Sir Brook? We have thought of all the projects that can terrify us, and you look as if it ought to be a terror.” “Mine is a plan for pleasure, and pleasure only; so pack up at once and get ready. Trafford arrived this morning.” “Where is he? I am so glad! Where's Trafford?” cried Tom, delighted. “I have despatched him with the vicar and two well-filled hampers to Holy Island, where I mean that we shall all picnic. There 's my plan.” “And a jolly plan too! I adhere unconditionally.” “And you, Lucy, what do you say?” asked Sir Brook, as the young girl stood with a look of some indecision and embarrassment. “I don't say that it's not a very pleasant project, but--” “But what, Lucy? Where 's the but?” She whispered a few words in his ear, and he cried out: “Is n't this too bad? She tells me Nicholas does not like all this gayety; that Nicholas disapproves of our mode of life.” “No, Tom; I only said Nicholas thinks that papa would not like it.” “Couldn't we see Nicholas? Couldn't we have a commission to examine Nicholas?” asked Sir Brook, laughingly. “I 'll not be on it, that 's all I know; for I should finish by chucking the witness into the Shannon. Come along, Lucy; don't let us lose this glorious morning. I 'll get some lines and hooks together. Be sure you 're ready when I come back.” As the door closed after him, Sir Brook drew near to Lucy, where she stood in an attitude of doubt and hesitation. “I mustn't risk your good opinion of me rashly. If you really dislike this excursion, I will give it up,” said he, in a low, gentle voice. “Dislike it? No; far from it. I suspect I would enjoy it more than any of you. My reluctance was simply on the ground that all this is so unlike the life we have been leading hitherto. Papa will surely disapprove of it. Oh, there comes Nicholas with a letter!” cried she, opening the sash-window. “Give it to me; it is from papa.”