"Then the driver took me a long round by the loveliest spot imaginable—'Wyldd's Farm'—such an appropriate name. One of your farm's, he told me; as of course I might have guessed. I walked through a large field to get a nearer view; and the farmer himself came out for a chat. Not the new-fangled sort, but the real old-fashioned type—quite idyllic!—a genuine old yeoman. He simply charmed me. So respectful. So self-respecting. I hoped he would ask me to go in, for I saw the sweetest little face of a girl looking out of the window, and I wanted to know her. He didn't—but I shall go again, and perhaps next time he will."
Surely she had not "put her foot in it" this time! The Squire's forehead was puckered all over, fine lines ruffling its surface. She racked her brain to discover wherein the blunder had consisted, while glissading off into fresh paths. Her exertions met with success, and gradually his look of annoyance faded.
"The real delight of country is, after all, in long walks," she remarked. "I can't afford many drives. But walks—with a companion— are delightful. Real long rambles, I mean."
"Miss Winton is a good walker," he said, as he stood up.
Mrs. Brutt caught at the suggestion. She did so admire Doris Winton; a captivating creature, pretty, graceful, full of life, "the dearest of girls." And wasn't it touching to see one, so fitted to adorn society, devoting herself to parish drudgery? So good and useful! But rather melancholy—didn't the Squire think?
"Of course one knows that the work has to be done. And the Rector's daughter has to take her share. But there are limits. And she is so young—so taking! For my part, I do like young folks to have a merry time—not to wear themselves out before they've had their swing."
Mr. Stirling's attention was arrested.
"Does Miss Winton work too hard?"
"Pray don't count me meddlesome." Mrs. Brutt put on a deprecating smile. "As a stranger, I have no right to speak. But sometimes—don't you think—sometimes strangers see more than friends? I can't help being abominably clear-sighted. It isn't my fault. I suppose I'm made so. And—I'm speaking now in strict confidence—" she lowered her voice to a mysterious murmur,—"I do feel sorry for the girl."
"For Doris Winton!" His manner showed surprise.