"Life is hard!" sighed Beatrice, "nothing seems to go right, first I quarrel with Lawrence and then with Nelly—why what is that?" she cried as she caught sight of something gold glittering in the pathway.
She stooped to pick it up; it was a gentleman's gold link, beautifully carved and engraved with the initials L. C.
"L. C." repeated Beatrice handling the link pensively "why they are his initials, can it be his I wonder? why yes" she continued, "here is the name Lawrence Cathcart; His Links! yes they are his, I will keep them and I may some day have occasion to return them to him," so saying she put the articles in her leather purse and turned towards home.
In some unaccountable way Beatrice turned into the High Street and had to pass Lawrence Cathcart's house, a splendid white stone building standing apart from the other houses in a beautiful garden of well tended blooms.
"What riches!" sighed Beatrice pausing at the iron gates, and as her blue eyes searched the lovely grounds her glance fell upon Lawrence Cathcart. He was standing under a tree with an open book in his hands. He wore a light fawn suit and his black curly hair was exposed to the Autumn sun; and as Beatrice gazed on this good looking young man she wondered why she had not noticed before how exquisitely curly his hair and moustache was, how fine his nose and eyes, and how beautifully his mouth was curved.
But she did not talk to him or try to attract his attention, and sad and disheartened she walked home.
CHAPTER 4
Tea was ready when Beatrice returned home and she drew in her chair and clustered round the table.
"Well, what is your dress like?" asked Mrs Langton as she passed the butter to her husband.