screams, and bursts of laughter, and light, rattling exclamations, she
finally succeeded in placing herself at his left hand, while her adroit
and self-possessed companion quietly rode up to his right Then, dropping
the reins on their horses' necks, the two ladies resigned themselves to
conversation, as the three slowly jogged homewards abreast.

"Now, Gilbert!" exclaimed Miss Sally Fairthorn, after waiting a moment
for him to speak; "did you really earn the brush, or beg it from one of
them, on the way home?"

"Begging, you know, is my usual habit," he answered, mockingly.

"I know you're as proud as Lucifer, when you've a mind to be so. There!"

Gilbert was accustomed to the rattling tongue of his left-hand neighbor,
and generally returned her as good as she gave. To-day, however, he was
in no mood for repartee. He drew down his brows and made no answer to
her charge.

"Where was the fox earthed?" asked the other lady, after a rapid glance
at his face.

Martha Deane's voice was of that quality which compels an answer, and a
courteous answer, from the surliest of mankind. It was not loud, it
could scarcely be called musical; but every tone seemed to exhale
freshness as of dew, and brightness as of morning. It was pure, slightly
resonant; and all the accumulated sorrows of life could not have veiled
its inherent gladness. It could never grow harsh, never be worn thin, or
sound husky from weariness; its first characteristic would always be
youth, and the joy of youth, though it came from the lips of age.