Tony leant back in his chair, dispirited, and began to protest. She laughed at his woeful face, and half yielding, questioned him about trains. He overwhelmed her with a rush of figures, then paused to give her time to recover. His eyes wandered to the breakfast-table, where lay Jimmie's unopened correspondence. One letter lay apart from the others. Tony took it up idly. “Here's a letter come to the wrong house.” “No; it is quite right,” said Aline. “Who is David Rendell, Esquire?” “Mr. Rendell is a friend of Jimmie's, I believe.” “I have never heard of him. What's he like?” “I don't know. Jimmie never speaks of him,” replied Aline. “That's odd.” The young man threw the letter on the table and returned to the subject of the outing. She must accompany him. He felt a perfect watercolour working itself up within him. One of those dreamy bits of backwater. He had a title for it already, “The Heart of Summer.” The difference her presence in the punt would make to the picture would be that between life and deadness. The girl fluttered a shy, pleased glance at him. But she loved to tease; besides, had she not but lately awakened to the sweet novelty of her young womanhood? “Perhaps Jimmie won't let me go.” Tony sprang to his feet. “Jimmie won't let you go!” he exclaimed in indignant echo. “Did he ever deny you a pleasure since you were born?” Her eyes sparkled at his tribute to the adored one's excellences. “That's just where it is, you see, Tony. His very goodness to me won't let me do things sometimes.” The servant hurried in with the breakfast-tray and the news that the master was coming down. Aline anxiously inspected the bacon. To her relief it was freshly cooked. In a minute or two a voice humming an air was heard outside, and Jimmie entered, smilingly content with existence. “Hallo, Tony, what are you doing here, wasting the morning light? Have some breakfast? Why haven't you laid a place for him?” Tony declined the invitation, and explained his presence. Jimmie rubbed his hands. “A day on the river! The very thing for Aline. It will do her good.” “I did n't say I was going, Jimmie.” “Not going? Rubbish. Put on your things and be off at once.” “How can I until I have given you your breakfast? And then there's the model--you would never be able to engage her by yourself. And you must have her to-morrow.” “I know I'm helpless, dear, but I can engage a model.” “And waste your time. Besides, you won't be able to find the address.” “There are cab-horses, dear, with unerring instinct.” “Your breakfast is getting cold, Jimmie,” said Aline, not condescending to notice the outrage of her economic principles.