Dorris had found some strange blossom among the underbrush, and were
stopping for it; and Oswald Megilp was behind them. For a few
seconds, Kenneth had Rosamond quite to himself.

The slight delay had increased the separation between her and Archie
Mucklegrand, for he had kept steadily on in his little huff.

"I do not think we shall be long," said Rosamond, glancing after
him, and looking up, with her eyes bright. She was half merry with
mischief, and half glad with a quieter, deeper pleasure, at
Kenneth's words.

He would tell her something in confidence; something that he was
glad of; he wanted her to know it while it was yet a secret; she had
not the least guess what it could be; but it was very "nice"
already. Rosamond always did rather like to be told things first; to
have her friends confide in and consult with her, and rely upon her
sympathy; she did not stop to separate the old feeling which she was
quite aware of in herself, from something new that made it
especially beautiful that Kenneth Kincaid should so confide and
rely.

Rosamond was likely to have more told her to-night than she quite
dreamed of.

"Desire!"

They heard Mrs. Ledwith's voice far back among the trees.

Desire answered.