“Yes, I think I will,” Arthur began; but at that moment we came into sight of Lady Muriel, and he checked himself. “No, it’s too far round. Yet it certainly _would_ be cooler——” He stood, hesitating, looking first one way and then the other—a melancholy picture of utter infirmity of purpose! How long this humiliating scene would have continued, if _I_ had been the only external influence, it is impossible to say; for at this moment Sylvie, with a swift decision worthy of Napoleon himself, took the matter into her own hands. “You go and drive _her_, up this way,” she said to Bruno. “I’ll get _him_ along!” And she took hold of the stick that Arthur was carrying, and gently pulled him down the lane. He was totally unconscious that any will but his own was acting on the stick, and appeared to think it had taken a horizontal position simply because he was pointing with it. “Are not those _orchises_ under the hedge there?” he said. “I think that decides me. I’ll gather some as I go along.” [Illustration: ‘ARE NOT THOSE ORCHISES?’] Meanwhile Bruno had run on beyond Lady Muriel, and, with much jumping about and shouting (shouts audible to no one but Sylvie and myself), much as if he were driving sheep, he managed to turn her round and make her walk, with eyes demurely cast upon the ground, in our direction. The victory was ours! And, since it was evident that the lovers, thus urged together, _must_ meet in another minute, I turned and walked on, hoping that Sylvie and Bruno would follow my example, as I felt sure that the fewer the spectators the better it would be for Arthur and his good angel. “And what sort of meeting was it?” I wondered, as I paced dreamily on. CHAPTER IV. THE DOG-KING. “They shooked hands,” said Bruno, who was trotting at my side, in answer to the unspoken question. “And they looked _ever_ so pleased!” Sylvie added from the other side. “Well, we must get on, now, as quick as we can,” I said. “If only I knew the best way to Hunter’s farm!” “They’ll be sure to know in this cottage,” said Sylvie. “Yes, I suppose they will. Bruno, would you run in and ask?” Sylvie stopped him, laughingly, as he ran off. “Wait a minute,” she said. “I must make you _visible_ first, you know.” “And _audible_ too, I suppose?” I said, as she took the jewel, that hung round her neck, and waved it over his head, and touched his eyes and lips with it.