'Miss Maud, dear, is not that too far for you? It is a long walk to Church
Scarsdale, and you are not looking very well.'

'To Church Scarsdale?' I repeated; 'I'm not going to Church Scarsdale; who
said I was going to Church Scarsdale? There is nothing I should so much
dislike.'

'Well, I never!' exclaimed she. 'Why, there's old Madame's been down-stairs
with me for fruit and sandwiches, telling me you were longing to go to
Church Scarsdale----'

'It's quite untrue,' I interrupted. 'She knows I hate it.'

'She does?' said Mrs. Rusk, quietly; 'and you did not tell her nothing
about the basket? Well--if there isn't a story! Now what may she be
after--what is it--what _is_ she driving at?'

'I can't tell, but I won't go.'

'No, of course, dear, you won't go. But you may be sure there's some scheme
in her old head. Tom Fowkes says she's bin two or three times to drink tea
at Farmer Gray's--now, could it be she's thinking to marry him?' And Mrs.
Rusk sat down and laughed heartily, ending with a crow of derision.

'To think of a young fellow like that, and his wife, poor thing, not dead a
year--maybe she's got money?'

'I don't know--I don't care--perhaps, Mrs. Rusk, you mistook Madame. I will
go down; I am going out.'