"You admire beeches, Evelyn, do you not?"
"I forget always which they are. Like this?"
She flung her arms up above her head, close together, so that she looked like a slender column. Then her body swayed and her delicate green dress quivered over it with the suggestion of countless leaves.
"My dear child!" exclaimed her lover.
"No: that is a silver birch," said Ford,
"Oh, of course. Like this, then." And she twitched up her skirts so that for a moment they spread out in great horizontal layers, like the layers of a beech.
We glanced at the house, but none of the servants were looking. So we laughed, and said she ought to go on the variety stage.
"Ah, this is the kind I like!" she cried, and practised the beech-tree again.
"I thought so," said Mr. Worters. "I thought so. Other Kingdom Copse is yours."
"Mine——?" She had never had such a present in her life. She could not realize it.