'And which some people say are set in bronze,'—said the young lady, but with a pretty little laugh and flush.
'Where do you propose the search should begin?' said the gentleman, disregarding this display.
'At Chickaree, sir. I should go down there at once, and so start from home in proper style.'
'And your plan of operations?' pursued Mr. Falkirk.
'Perfectly simple, sir. Of two roads I should always take the most difficult, and so on—ad infinitum.'
'Perfectly simple, indeed,' said Mr. Falkirk. 'Yet it might lead to a complication. I'm afraid it would prove a Western line of travel, my dear—end in a squirrel track, and run up a tree.'
'What a lookout we shall have!' said Wych Hazel. 'But about the dress, Mr. Falkirk—you know my last one is quite new—and I do so want another!'
'Then get it,' he said with a smile. 'Though I am afraid, my dear, it is hardly in keeping. Quickear began the search in rags, and Cincerella in ashes, and the "Fair one with the golden locks" had, I think, no other adornment. Puss in boots was indeed new rigged—but Puss was only a deputy. What do you say to sending me forth in boots, to seek a fortune for you?'
An irrepressible laugh rippled forth—sweet and sound, and, oh, so heartwhole!
'Let me see,' she said; 'To-day is Monday. To-morrow I will get the dress and distract my dressmaker. And next Monday we will set out, and take Chickaree for our first stage. My dear Mr. Falkirk—most potent, grave, and reverend sir,—if you sally forth as Puss in boots, of course I shall at once turn into the Marquis of Carrabas, which would not suit your notions at all—confess!' she added, locking both hands round his arm, and flashing the brilliants before his eyes.