"It doesn't matter. The dear things are so shy. Won't you come indoors?"
"Not to-day, I think. Your neighbour down the lane has kept me longer than I intended."
"Is your horse in the yard? Shall we go through the garden?" It was a common practice of the Squire to leave his horse in the Rectory stables, when he had business in the village. She walked by his side with lithe free grace, carrying her head like a young princess. "So you've been to the Cottage. Isn't she nice? I like her awfully." Doris's cheeks dimpled. "But father doesn't. He can't forgive her for being there. If he ventures out in his beloved old coat, she is sure to catch him."
Mr. Stirling stooped to pick up a snail, which he flung far over the wall. Then he admitted that he found Mrs. Brutt pleasant—something of an acquisition.
"When are you coming to see Katherine?"
"I did think of this afternoon—but I'm not sure."
He recollected what Mrs. Brutt had said. "Too much to do?"
Her face took a rebellious set.
"I don't like being made to do things."
"Even if you don't mind the things themselves?"