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At this Mona laughs unrestrainedly; and Lady Rodney, rising hurriedly, says,— Soon the man came running up, and he said to his wife, "Who is driving out my animals?" The woman replied, "The dog and the root digger are in there now." "Well, it was perfect: wasn't it, Violet?".

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Indeed, no sound disturbs the sacred silence save the crisp rustle of the dead leaves, as they are trodden into the ground. "Well, on the principle that fine feathers make fine birds, I suppose they do," acknowledges Geoffrey, reluctantly. Whereupon Jack Rodney instantly conceives a sudden and uncalled for dislike towards the man in question. "She is all your fancy could possibly paint her; she is lovely and divine. Don't try to analyze her charms, my dear Geoff. She is just the prettiest and sweetest woman I ever met. She is young, in the 'very May morn of delight,' yet there is nothing of that horrid shyness—that mauvaise honte—about her that, as a rule, belongs to the 'freshness of morning.' Her laugh is so sweet, so full of enjoyment.".