I laid my hand on my friend's shoulder. "Oh sir, you're all
right!"

Just at this moment there came cantering down the shallow glade
of the avenue a young girl on a fine black horse--one of those
little budding gentlewomen, perfectly mounted and equipped, who
form to alien eyes one of the prettiest incidents of English
scenery. She had distanced her servant and, as she came abreast
of us, turned slightly in her saddle and glanced back at him. In
the movement she dropped the hunting-crop with which she was
armed; whereupon she reined up and looked shyly at us and at the
implement. "This is something better than a Lely," I said. Searle
hastened forward, picked up the crop and, with a particular
courtesy that became him, handed it back to the rider. Fluttered
and blushing she reached forward, took it with a quick sweet
sound, and the next moment was bounding over the quiet turf.
Searle stood watching her; the servant, as he passed us, touched
his hat. When my friend turned toward me again I saw that he too
was blushing. "Oh sir, you're all right," I repeated.

At a short distance from where we had stopped was an old stone
bench. We went and sat down on it and, as the sun began to sink,
watched the light mist powder itself with gold. "We ought to be
thinking of the train back to London, I suppose," I at last said.

"Oh hang the train!" sighed my companion.

"Willingly. There could be no better spot than this to feel the
English evening stand still." So we lingered, and the twilight
hung about us, strangely clear in spite of the thickness of the