CHAPTER XVIII.
COURT IN THE WOODS.
'Miss Wych—my dear—all in brown?' said Mrs. Bywank doubtfully, as her young charge was arraying herself one morning for the woodcraft. Some rain and some matters of business had delayed the occasion, and it was a good week since the fishing party.
'Harmonious, isn't it?' said Hazel.
'But, my dear—it looks—so sombre!' said Mrs. Bywank.
'Sombre?' said the girl, facing round upon her with such tinges of cheek and sparkles of eye that Mrs. Bywank laughed, too, and gave in.
'If it puts Mr. Falkirk to sleep, I can wake him up,' said
Wych Hazel, busy with her loopings. 'And as for Mr. Rollo'—
'Mr. Rollo!—is he to be of the party?' said the housekeeper.
'I suppose,—really,—he is the party,' said Wych Hazel. 'Mr. Falkirk and I scarcely deserve so festive a name by ourselves.'
'And what were you going to say to Mr. Rollo?'