"Is your horse in the yard? Shall we go through the garden?" It was a common practice of the Squire to leave his horse in the Rectory stables, when he had business in the village. She walked by his side with lithe free grace, carrying her head like a young princess. "So you've been to the Cottage. Isn't she nice? I like her awfully." Doris's cheeks dimpled. "But father doesn't. He can't forgive her for being there. If he ventures out in his beloved old coat, she is sure to catch him." Mr. Stirling stooped to pick up a snail, which he flung far over the wall. Then he admitted that he found Mrs. Brutt pleasant—something of an acquisition. "When are you coming to see Katherine?" "I did think of this afternoon—but I'm not sure." He recollected what Mrs. Brutt had said. "Too much to do?" Her face took a rebellious set. "I don't like being made to do things." "Even if you don't mind the things themselves?" She laughed, but the rebellious note was still audible. "I'd rather be free to choose for myself. I hate to have my whole life parcelled out for me by—other people!" This was a new sound in his ears. Subterranean gases of discontent had been at work; but till this moment the imprisoned forces had found no vent in his hearing. "Spirit of the Age!" he murmured to himself. Aloud he made a slight encouraging sound, and her words came in a rush. "I don't see why I should have to do it all. I can't help being a Rector's daughter. If I were a clergyman, or a clergyman's wife, it would be by my own choice. Not because I couldn't help myself. Doesn't it seem rather unfair that I should have to spend my time doing things that I detest, and having none for what I love?—well, not very much, at all events. Oh, I didn't mind so much at first. One likes variety, and it was a change from school. But—lately—" "Yes—lately—?" "It has begun to seem—horrid. I've felt horrid sometimes. Don't you know—?" appealingly. "Perhaps I do. What sort of things is it that you want to do?" "Oh just heaps! I love music, and I could spend hours over it every day. And hours more over Italian and German. I'm rather good at languages. And I want to read—any amount. And then I should like—" and she paused—"more go—for fun!" "You are asked to a good many tennis-parties, I believe." "Heaps of them. But that is the same thing, over and over. The same houses, and the same friends. I should like things to be different. I want to go about, and to see fresh people." Her face flashed into brightness. "If only I could go abroad! That would be too delicious. Not keep on always and for ever in the same old ruts." She sent a quick glance into her companion's face, and was sure that he understood, though he made no remark.