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An unmistakable whiff of tobacco-smoke awoke her from her dream of delight. She turned swiftly, the lily in one hand, her skirt clutched in the other.

“Don’t be alarmed,” said a quiet, casual voice. “It’s only me.”

“Only you!” she echoed, blushing crimson. “I wasn’t expecting anyone just now.”

“Oh, but I don’t count,” he said. He was standing on the bank above her, looking down upon her with eyes so kindly that she found it impossible to be vexed with him, or even embarrassed after that first moment.

She reached up her hand to him.

“I’m coming out.”

He took the small wrist, and helped her ashore. She looked up at him and laughed.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” she said simply.

“Thank you,” he returned, equally simply. “How are you getting on?”

“Oh, beautifully! I’m as happy as the day is long.”

She began to rub her bare feet in the grass.

“Have my handkerchief,” he suggested.

She accepted it with a smile, and sat down.

“Tell me about everything,” she said.

Rivington sat down also, and took a long, luxurious pull at the briar pipe.

“Things were quite lively for a day or two after you left,” he said. “But they have settled down again. Still, I don’t advise you to go back again at present.”

“Oh, I’m not going,” she said. “I am much happier here. I saw a squirrel this morning. I wanted to kiss it dreadfully, but,” with a sigh, “it didn’t understand.”

“The squirrel’s loss,” observed Rivington.

She crumpled his handkerchief into a ball, and tossed it at him.

“Of course. But as it will never know what it has missed, it doesn’t so much matter. Are you going to live in the caravan? I’ll bring you your supper if you are.”

“That’s awfully good of you,” he said.

“Oh, no, it isn’t. I want to. I shall bring my own as well and eat it on the step.”

“Better and better!” said Rivington.

She laughed her own peculiarly light-hearted laugh.

“I’ve a good mind to turn you out and sleep there myself. I’m longing to know what it feels like.”

“You can if you want to,” he said.

She shook her head.

“I daren’t, by myself.”

“I’ll have my kennel underneath,” he suggested.

But she shook her head again, though she still laughed.

“No, I mustn’t. What would Mrs. Perkiss say? She has a very high opinion of me at present.”

“Who hasn’t?” said Rivington.

She raised her eyes suddenly and gave him a straight, serious look.

“Are you trying to be complimentary, Knight Errant? Because–don’t!”

Rivington blew a cloud of smoke into the air.

“Shouldn’t dream of it,” he said imperturbably. “I am fully aware that poor relations mustn’t presume on their privileges.”

She coloured a little, and gave her whole attention to fastening her shoe-lace.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said, after a moment. “Only–don’t think I care for that sort of thing, for, candidly, I don’t.”

“You needn’t be afraid,” he answered gravely. “I shall never say anything to you that I don’t mean.”

She glanced up again with her quick smile.

“Is it a bargain?” she said.

He held out his hand to her.

“All right, Chirpy, a bargain,” he said.

And they sealed it with a warm grip of mutual appreciation.

“Now tell me what everybody has been saying about me,” she said, getting to her feet.

He smiled as he leisurely arose.

“To begin with,” he said, “I’ve seen mamma.”

She looked up at him sharply.

“Go on! Wasn’t she furious?”

“My dear child, that is but a mild term. She was cold as the nether mill-stone. I am afraid there isn’t much chance for us if we persist in our folly.”

“Don’t be absurd! Tell me everything. Has that announcement been contradicted?”

“Once,” said Rivington. “But it has been inserted three times since then.”

“Oh, but you didn’t—-“

“Yes, but I did. It was necessary. I think everyone is now convinced of our engagement, including Lady Florence.”

Ernestine laughed a little, in spite of herself.

“I can’t think what the end of it will be,” she said, with a touch of uneasiness.

“Wait till we get there,” said Rivington.

She threw him a glance, half merry and half shy.