Mr. Falkirk went no further into the subject, or into any other, till the dessert had been taken away and he was fingering the nuts. Mr. Falkirk took no dessert. And in the midst of cracking a hard nut, effort availed to crack something else. 'Do we go to town this winter, Miss Hazel?' 'I have taken no thought whatever about the winter, sir.' 'Do you intend to stay here?' 'I thought we agreed, sir, to let the winter question wait?' 'I made no such agreement, Miss Hazel. On the contrary, if we let the question wait, there will be no house to receive you when you make up your mind to go.' 'Then we will wait.' 'No, Miss Hazel, if you please I will have your decision. If it makes no difference to you, it makes some to me. Either here or New York—but you must say which.' 'O if you put me in a corner, Mr. Falkirk, I shall stay here,' said Wych Hazel. 'I suppose so. And now, Miss Hazel, will you kindly go a little further and give me your reasons?' 'My dear Mr. Falkirk, you know we agreed long ago, that between you and me reasons should be left to take care of themselves. Do let the winter question rest!' 'I thought we agreed long ago that between you and me there should be confidence,' said her guardian somewhat bitterly. Now Mr. Falkirk was unreasonable, but it is not in the nature of men to know when they are unreasonable. So making a great and ill-adjusted effort with his nut-cracker, it slipped and did Mr. Falkirk's finger some harm, instead of the nut. Mr. Falkirk dipped his finger into cold water, wrapped it in his handkerchief, and went off, disgusted with the world generally. 'We never did!' thought Hazel to herself. 'I plainly told him it could not be.' But for all that she felt just a little bit troubled and hurt. Four days of storms, during which Mr. Falkirk passed himself off for sugar and salt, and even Mr. Rollo was somewhat hindered of his pleasure, ended at last in a brilliant Saturday afternoon. But though Wych Hazel did send some wistful glances out of the window, she knew perfectly well there could be no coming from Morton Hollow that night. Still, the feminine mind is good at devices; and Miss Kennedy was not the first girl who (for the nonce) has enacted the part of Mahomet. The mountain could not stir,—therefore— She thought it all out, sitting opposite to Mr. Falkirk at dinner; and when that gentleman had taken his departure, the young mistress of the house fell into a sudden state of activity; her last move being to smother herself in a huge dingy cloak, akin to those worn by the mill people in their improved condition. 'Look at me, Byo,' she said, pulling the rough hood up over her silky curls. 'My dear,' began Mrs. Bywank,—'Miss Wych,—if Mr. Rollo should see you!'— 'He would see nothing but my cloak.' 'My dear, I'm not so sure. He has wonderful sharp eyes. And you don't wear your cloak like a mill girl.' 'Don't I look like a new hand?' said Hazel laughing.