DO YOU REMEMBER?
Toney Whitburn pulled in her thorough-bred suddenly by a gap in the park and looked at her companion. The two had met by chance and they had had a canter together, so that the exercise had made the girl look radiant, and her hair, though twisted round her well-shaped head, rebelled at the restriction, and in protest curled itself round her temples and the nape of her neck.
"Do you know—I'm twenty-one to-morrow. Isn't it terrible?"
"Terrible!" answered the young Squire, Lewis Waycott, with a smile half of amusement and half of sympathy.
"You don't think so, but I do! You know I've honestly tried to become 'a young lady with expectations.' I've been to a finishing school at Paris, and I've tried to learn German at Dresden, and I've gone to sleep through ever so many concerts, and I've seen all the old things at Rome—and yet——"
"You haven't succeeded? You are just the same as you were, thank Heaven!"
Toney's joyous laugh woke the echoes.
"No, I've failed utterly, though, honest Injun, I have tried! Aunt Dove says so! She's always implying what a national misfortune it is that to-morrow I shall be my own mistress, but now, will you—you have always been awfully chummy—will you be the judge?"
"Between you and Lady Dove?"
"Yes. You know I offered to be her companion—and I meant it——"