The sweet-faced woman who wheeled Kitty about gave an amused little laugh.
"It would be rather nice for you to go this once alone, Miss Kitty; and I could wheel you there on my way out——"
"And Sally and I could bring you home. Would not that do?" said Paul to Mr. Curzon.
"If you are sure you will not be troubled with her."
"Oh dear, no; it has been a long-standing engagement—has it not, Kitty?"
"Daddy dear, lift me out, please!" said Kitty, when Paul had gone on his way. "I like him so much, although I don't remember his name. It's rather a funny one, but I like him; he has such kind eyes."
Mr. Curzon tenderly lifted his little daughter out of her carriage, but made no answer to her remark about their new neighbour. To himself he was free to admit that the new squire's views troubled him sorely.
"We are to have our first tea-party to-morrow, Sally. I have invited the district visitor."
"Who?" asked Sally, in considerable astonishment.
"Kitty Curzon—whose loving care for my head has won my heart. The child persists in believing that I live in a chronic state of headache, and resorts to her own methods of cure. Ours is a friendship doomed to be nipped in the bud, alas! Let us make the most of it while it lasts."