"He is not a lord, I tell you," says Honor rather testily, "any more than you or I. He is only a baronet.—Sir Something Somebody, I forget what now. It was only the other day that Mr. Edward Talboys was pointing out the house (The Court, I think he called it) to me, and he said that the owner was nearly always abroad, and that it had been shut up for years in consequence."
"All the better for us," remarks Doris. "Well, I'm off. Good-bye, Honor; if I find any flowers worth having, I'll bring you some."
Walking briskly along, Vic bounding forward in advance, elated at the idea of a prolonged hunt, Doris and she soon come to the woods, and climbing over a little stile, strike off down a path to the right which they both seem to be familiar with. Following this for some distance, Doris turns suddenly to the left, and in another instant is in the most lovely little glade imaginable. The girls have named it their "parlour," for it is carpeted with a rich emerald turf, which is dotted over at intervals with numberless wild flowers of the woods. Several trees have been felled at this spot, and the moss-covered stumps afford capital resting-places, especially one stump, which has two straggling sort of boughs behind it, thus forming quite an inviting arm-chair.
Opposite this is a curiously-shaped tree, which when once climbed into makes a luxurious lounge for anyone who is lazily inclined.
There being no one to embarrass Doris on this particular occasion by watching her ascent into the tree, she is established there in a very few seconds, and ordering Vic (greatly to the animal's surprise and indignation) to "lie down," she opens her book and leans back comfortably in her leafy couch. The minutes fly quickly, and the book being an interesting one, Doris hardly raises her eyes from it until a whole hour has sped away. Not till then does she become aware that Vic has entirely disappeared from view, and is not to be heard any more than seen. Doris sits up and looks round, with no satisfactory result, however; and she is just screwing up her mouth to whistle, when she is startled by a shrill cry away in the distance, followed by a shout in a man's voice of "Drop it, drop it, you brute!"
Then in another moment Vic, with a young rabbit in her strong jaws, bursts through the thicket to the right, runs across the glade, and is at once out of sight again. She is closely followed by a tall, broad-shouldered young fellow, who, while making one last abortive attempt to rescue the unfortunate rabbit from its captor, catches his foot in a straggling briar and measures his length on the soft turf, almost at Doris's feet.
"Now or never!" thinks the girl to herself, preparing to descend—for with an exclamation which would doubtless have been suppressed had he guessed his close proximity to a lady, the young man commences to pick up first himself and then his hat.
With a desperate jump Doris alights safely on the stump below; but, as with a little less caution she prepares to leave that also, an unkind branch above hitches itself into one of the bows of her hat and whisks the whole erection off her head, so that when the young man suddenly turns round he finds himself confronted by a hatless young lady, who has apparently sprung from nowhere! They both look up at the hat, then they look at each other, and burst into a merry laugh.
Lifting his hat, which he has just replaced on his head, the young fellow says, "Really I must apologize for my very abrupt appearance. I had not the least idea that anyone was here. I hope I did not startle you very much. May I be permitted to inquire if you have dropped from the clouds?"
Doris indicates with a wave of her hand the place from which she has descended, and without paying attention to the words addressed to her says, "O, I wish you had been a little quicker! Do you think the poor thing was dead?"