'Something which qualifies your suffering--_n'est-ce pas_, Mr.
Falkirk?'

'Certainly, by its primary action upon your doing, Miss Hazel.
We are going to Chickaree.'

To which statement Miss Hazel for the present made no reply.
She retreated to the depths of her own corner and the brown
veil; fingering her roses now and then, and (apparently)
making endless mental 'studies' of the wayside. The coach
jogged lumberingly on: there was no relief to the tiresomeness
of the way. It was a long morning. Dusty and weary, the coach-
load was set down at last at another country inn; by the side
of a little river which had well filled its banks. The
travellers were not, it must be noted, upon any of the great
highways of passage, but had taken a cut across country, over
some of the spurs of the Catskill; where a railroad was not.
Mr. Falkirk brought his charge into the 'Ladies' parlour,' and
spoke in a tone of irritated business.

'This is Hadyn's Dam. You can have rest and dinner now.'


CHAPTER IV.

FELLOW TRAVELLERS.


'Dinner--and the rest of it,' translated Miss Hazel. 'Will it