Thereafter his visits to the neighbouring garrison town grew more frequent, and despite his painful gout he never refused an invitation to join a hunt. * * * * * It was the first Sunday in October. The colonel had left at dawn to go to a neighbour with the intention of not returning until late at night. A soft grey mist shot with violet suggestions of the sun lay over the ground when Lilly, bored and writhing internally, came out of church on Miss von Schwertfeger's arm. The sunflowers in the tenants' gardens were already sinking their singed heads and the asters showed signs of having suffered from the murderous blows of Jack Frost. But the air was as sweet and spicy as in spring, and from the fields came a singing as of meadow larks. "Such a day, such a day!" thought Lilly, and stretched herself in a vague yearning for secret conversation and glad pranks. She must have thought a little too loud, for Miss von Schwertfeger asked: "What's the matter with to-day?" "I don't know," replied Lilly, blushing. "I feel as if it were some festival." Miss von Schwertfeger looked at her askance and said, emphasising each word: "I should like to make a festival of it for myself and visit a friend of mine in the city. But the colonel is away and I don't know--" Lilly started so violently that she lost her breath for an instant. But she mastered herself cleverly and began to persuade Miss von Schwertfeger, first speaking coolly, then more warmly and urgently. She needed a little outing; she hadn't left the place all summer; she lived like a prisoner, and ought to grant herself at least one hour of freedom. Miss von Schwertfeger nodded meditatively, and that glassy stare came into her eyes which always discomfited Lilly. At the midday meal, which the two took in each other's company, she was still undecided; but as soon as they rose from table she ordered the carriage to be brought around and drove off without saying good-by. Lilly, who watched her departure, ran for the pea-shooter. The foliage of the creepers still hedged in her little domain so perfectly that Von Prell could not see her. But she could see him as he sat at the open window brooding over a book with a deep fold between his brows. "My good influence," thought Lilly triumphantly, and it almost made her feel sorry to tear him away from so salutary an occupation. The inspector and the bookkeeper were walking up and down near the lodge smoking their Sunday afternoon cigarettes. So more than ordinary caution was necessary. The pellet containing her missive hit Von Prell's forehead, rebounded, and fell on the grass outside the window. Von Prell had himself so well in hand that he even refrained from looking up to show he understood. After a while, however, he let the book fall out of the window as if by accident, and then got up to fetch it with an indifferent air. Half an hour later they met behind the carp pond.