enjoyed ourselves in our respective fashions.

"It was a lovely evening. Hand in hand we turned out of the 'Saracen's
Head' into the shingly street, took the turning which led to the
unfashionable quarter, and strolled on and on, in what Scott calls
'social silence.' I was very happy. It was not only a lovely
evening--it was one of these when the sunlight seems no longer mere
sunlight, but has a kind of magical glow, as if a fairy spell had been
cast over everything; when all houses look interesting--all country
lanes inviting--when each hedge, or ditch, or field seems a place made
to play in at some wonderful game that should go on for years.

"As we wandered on, we passed a line of small bright-looking houses,
which strongly caught my fancy. Each had its gay little garden, its
shrubbery of lilac, holly, or laurustinus, and its creeper-covered
porch. They looked so compact and cosy, so easy to keep tidy, so snug
and sunny, that one fancied the people who lived in them must be
happy, and wondered who they were.

"'Oh, father!' I exclaimed, 'what delightful houses!'

"'They are very pretty, my dear,' he answered; 'but they are much too
small for us; besides which, they are all occupied.'

"I sighed, and we were passing on, when I held him back with another
exclamation.

"'Oh! _look_ at the carnations!' For in one of the gardens large
clumps of splendid scarlet cloves caught my eye.