A simple enough affair,—just chestnuts and lunch; but rarely had the young lady of the domain been so hard to please in the matter of her dress. For words do leave their footsteps, drive them out as we will; and this Prim's words had done. Not quite according to Prim's intent, however; for the one clear idea in Wych Hazel's mind, was that Mr. Rollo was (or would be when he noticed it at all) dissatisfied with her dress. And that was precisely the line in which she had never before met criticism. Hazel took off one colour after another, until Phoebe was in despair and Mrs. Bywank turned away and smiled out of the window. 'And dear me, ma'am,' cried Phoebe at last, 'there comes a carriage!'— Hazel looked towards the window, caught the old housekeeper's eye, and suddenly embellishing her proceedings with a pair of scarlet cheeks, she opened another press, seized the first white dress that came to hand, and put it on without more ado. A dainty white piqué, all on the wing with delicate embroideries and lace, and broad sash ends of the colour of red gold. 'But Miss Wych!' Mrs. Bywank remonstrated. 'The wind is very fresh.' Wych Hazel made another plunge after sealskin jacket and cap; turned over a box of gloves till she matched her ribbands; gave Mrs. Bywank a laugh and a flash from her eyes, and was off. But that carriage it seemed had rolled by, and there was no one at the meeting place in the woods when the girl seated herself there to await her guests. ' "Do you think Dane will like to have you dress as you do?" '—so ran her thoughts. 'Well,—how do I dress?' She sat looking into the soft silence of the October air, feeling that for her life was changing fast. The old bounds to her action had somehow now stretched out to take in her will; her own pleasure now often in the mood to wait, uncertain of its choice, till she knew the pleasure of somebody else. There was the least bit of rebellion at this here and there; and yet on the whole Wych Hazel by no means wished herself back in the old times when nobody cared. Ah how lonely she had been!—and how full the world seemed now, with that secret sense of happiness pervading all things! Meanwhile, as Prim had said, what was she going to do about dress? It happened that the first interruption to her meditations came from a visiter who did not intend to be a guest. No less than Gov. Powder; a portly, gentlemanly, somewhat imposing personage, who was less known to society than were his wife and daughters. However, without wife and daughters, here he was. 'Good morning, my dear, good morning!' he began blandly, shaking Wych Hazel's hand with a sort of paternal-official benignity. 'Your guardian has not come upon the scene yet? I thought I should find him here. Why how cool you look, for October!'