walking sedately with the governess of no charm and encyclopaedic
information.

"Now we're all right," called Brockton, loudly. "Upon my word, Mrs.
Dinsmore, I think you were asleep! Miss Harned, you can't be as
entertaining as I thought if your cousin falls asleep with you."

"But think how soothing I must be; that's even better than to be
entertaining."

"By ginger! I never found that out--that you were soothing, I mean."
It was evident that Mr. Brockton intended a compliment. Anna Dinsmore
saw the annoyed red whip out upon Millicent's cheeks. She interposed a
few ready, irrelevant questions before the tide of Brockton's
flattery.

They made their swift way through the hills, sometimes overlooking the
winding course of the river, sometimes skirting the great estates of
the region, again whizzing noisily through an old village. Anna and
Brockton sustained the weight of conversation. Millicent smiled in
vague sympathy with their laughter and Joined at random in the talk.
Obstinately her mind had stayed behind her--with the men of Warren,
with the round-faced child, and the woman to whose life love and not
art gave all its beauty.

They approached one of the larger old towns of the country--a place
with a bustling main street and elm-shaded thoroughfares branching
from it. Here were ample, well-kept lawns and houses of prosperous
dignity. It seemed charming to Millicent with its air of unhurried
activity or undrowsy repose.