"Mrs Lane," said Richard, speaking gaily, "I'm like the little boy in the story--I'm idle, and want some one to come and play with me, but I hope for better luck than he." Mother and daughter looked at him wonderingly. "I've come to tell you," he said, "that the sun shines brightly overhead; there's a deep blue sky, and silvery clouds floating across it; and six or seven miles out northward there are sweet-scented wild flowers, waving green trees, all delicious shade; the music of song-birds, the hum of insects, and views that will gladden your hearts after seeing nothing but smoke and chimneypots. I am Nature's ambassador, and I am here to say `Come.'" As he spoke the work fell from Netta's hands, her eyes dilated, and a look of intense glad longing shone from her soft, oval face, while she hung upon her mother's lips, till, hearing her words, the tears gathered in her eyes, and she bent her head to conceal them. Mrs Lane's words were very few; they were grateful, but they told of work to be done by a certain time, and she said it was impossible. "But it would do you both good. Miss Netta there wants a change badly," said Richard; "and you haven't heard half my plan. Jenkles has his cab at the door, and I propose a drive right out into the country, and when we get back you will ask me to tea. It will be a squeeze, but you will forgive that." Poor Mrs Lane's face looked drawn in its pitiful aspect. She felt that such a trip would be like so much new life to her child, but she could not go, and she shook her head. "It may not be etiquette, perhaps," said Richard, quietly, "but I shall ask you to waive that, and let me take Netta here. You know it will do her good, and she will have Mr Jenkles, as well as your humble servant, to take care of her." Mrs Lane looked him searchingly in the face, which was as open as the day, and then, glancing at Netta, she saw her parted lips and look of intense longing. The refusal that had been imminent passed away, and laying her hand upon the young man's arm, she said, softly-- "I will trust you." There was something almost painful in the look of joy in Netta's face as, with trembling eagerness, she threw her arms round her mother, and then, with the excitement of a child, hurried away to put on hat and mantle. "I shall be back directly," she exclaimed. Richard's heart gave one heavy painful throb as he turned for an instant at the door. Mrs Lane laid her hand upon his arm as soon as they were alone, and once more looked searchingly into his face. "I ought not to do this," she said, pitifully. "You're almost a stranger; but it is giving her what she has so little of--pleasure; more, it is like giving her life. You know--you see how ill she is?" "Poor child, yes," said Richard. "Child!"