"Miss Mary—" said she.
"Mrs. Mary," suggested Walter, meekly.
Mrs. Mary blew him a kiss.
"Ay, ay," said Mrs. Easton, smiling. "Of course you will both hate me, but I have come to take you home, Mistress Mary."
"Home!" said Mary; "why, this feels like home."
"No doubt," said Mrs. Easton, "but, for all that, in half an hour we must start."
The married couple remonstrated with one accord, but Mrs. Easton was firm. "I dreamed," said she, "that we were all found out—and that's a warning. Mr. Walter, you know that you'll be missed at Clifford Hall, and didn't ought to leave your father another day. And you, Miss Mary, do but think what a weight I have taken upon my shoulders, and don't put off coming home, for I am almost shaking with anxiety, and for sure and certain my dream it was a warning, and there's something in the wind."
They were both so indebted to this good woman that they looked at each other piteously, but agreed. Walter rang the bell, and ordered the four-wheeler and his own nag.
"Mary, one little walk in that sweet garden."
"Yes, dear," said Mary, and in another moment they were walking in the garden, intertwined like the ivy and the oak, and purring over their present delights and glowing prospects.