The doings of Doris

by Agnes Giberne

"To-morrow. The Grand Muveran."

"Not alone!"

"No. I believe a guide is necessary—unless one is in a guideless party of experts."

Doris dimpled.

"I heard an English lady at Bex talking about the Grand-move-her-on, and the Petty-move-her-on."

"Which fixed the names."

"Don't you like the way the Grand Muveran stands? He throws up his head with such an air. And the Petit Muveran beside him is—Impudence beside Dignity."

He laughed, and asked: "Have you had any excursions yet?"

"Oh no, I've only wandered a little near at hand. But I'm aching to get higher—right up somewhere. Mrs. Brutt can't climb, and we keep to the roads. But I mean to do a little scrambling by myself."

He put down his knife, looking at her gravely. "That won't do! You say this is your first visit to Switzerland. You might be over a precipice, before you dreamt of danger."