ham,' he said,—'and that not of the most eatable, I fear. She is a jade. But we'll get away to-morrow. I hope so.'

'My dear sir,' said Wych Hazel with a radiant face, 'we will get away to-night. I find that the bridge is not on our road, after all. So I said it was not worth while to get a room ready for me,—and the baggage might be just transferred.'

'To what?'

'To the other stage, sir. Or indeed I believe it is some sort of a baggage wagon—as the roads are heavy—not to speak of the passengers. It has gone on up the mountain.'

'What has?' exclaimed Mr. Falkirk, whose face was a study.

'The wagon,' said Miss Hazel, seating herself by the table.
'More particularly, your one trunk and my six, sir.'

'Where has it gone?'

'Up the mountain, sir. They were afraid of making the stage top heavy—the weight of intellect inside being small.'

'Do you mean, to Catskill?'

'Yes, sir. Poor little puss!—Does the vegetation hereabouts support nothing but pigs?' said Miss Hazel, with a despairing glance from the dish of ham to a yellow haired lassie in a blue gown, who just then brought in a pitcher of water. Mr. Falkirk waited till the damsel had withdrawn, and went to the window and came back again before he spoke.

'You should have consulted me, Miss Hazel. You are bewildered.
It is not a good time to go up the mountain now.'

'Bewildered? I!' was Miss Hazel's only answer.

'Yes, you don't know what is good for you. I shall send for those trunks, Wych.'

'Quite useless, sir. There is nothing else going up to the Mountain House till we go ourselves. We will go for them—there is nothing like doing your own business.'

'You will find that out one day,' muttered her guardian.

'Seeking my fortune, and wait for the mending of a bridge!' Hazel went on. 'And then I said I was going to Catskill,—and then you're the best guardian in the world, Mr. Falkirk, so it's no use looking as if you were somebody else.'

'I shall be somebody else directly,' said Mr. Falkirk in a cynical manner. 'But eat your dinner, Miss Hazel; you will not have much time.'

A meal for which he did not seem to care himself, for there was no perceivable time when he took it.

The stage coach into which the party presently stowed themselves, held now but those four—Mr. Falkirk and his ward, and two gentlemen who had declared themselves on the way to the mountain. The former established themselves somewhat taciturnly in the several corners of the back seat, and so made the journey; that is to say, as much as possible, for Mr. Falkirk being known to the other could not avoid now and then being drawn into communication with them. One, indeed, Mr. Kingsland, made many and divers overtures to that effect. His elegance of person and costume was advantageously displayed in an opposite corner, from whence he distributed civilities as occasion offered. His book and his magazine were placed at the brown veil's disposal; he stopped the coach to buy cherries from a wayside farm, which cherries were in like manner laid at Wych Hazel's feet; and his observations on the topics that were available, demonstrated all his stores of wit and wisdom equally at hand and ready for use. But brown veil would none of them all. The daintiest of hands took two cherries and signed away the rest; the sweetest of girl voices declined the magazine or gave it over to Mr. Falkirk. If the eyes burned brown lights (instead of blue) in their seclusion, if the voice just didn't break with fun, perhaps only Mr. Falkirk found it out, and he by virtue of previous knowledge. But in fact, Miss Hazel gave the keenest attention to everybody and everything.

A contrast to Mr. Kingsland was their other fellow-traveller. Mr. Rollo occupying the place in front of Mr. Falkirk, made himself as much as possible at ease on the middle seat, with his back upon the persons who engaged Mr. Kingsland's attention; but he did not thereby escape theirs. When a society is so small, the members of it almost of necessity take note of one another. The little brown-veiled figure could not help noticing what a master he was in the art of making himself comfortable; how skilfully shawls were disposed; how easily hand and foot, back and head, took the best position for jolting up the hill. It amused her as something new; for Mr. Falkirk belonged to that type of manhood which rather delights in being uncomfortable whenever circumstances permit; and other men she had seen few. Mr. Rollo had a book too, which he did not offer to lend; and he gave his lazy attention to nothing else—unless when a bright glance of eye went over to Mr. Kingsland. He was as patient as any of the party; as truly he had good reason, being by several degrees the most comfortable. But Mr. Falkirk moved now and then unrestingly, and the back seat was hot and cramped,—and Wych found the jolts and heavings of the coach springs a thing to be borne. And that swinging and swaying middle seat, with its one occupant came so close upon her premises, that she dared not adventure the least thing, even to Mr. Falkirk. If the momentary relief of turning that grey travelling shawl into a pincushion, occurred to her, nothing came of it; the thick folds were untouched by one of her little fingers. She put her face as nearly out of the coach as she could, and perhaps enjoyed the scenery, if anyone did. Mr. Falkirk gave no sign of enjoyment, mental or physical, and Mr. Kingsland would certainly have been asleep, but for losing sight of the brown veil—and of possible something it might do. Yet now and then there were fine reaches for the eye, beautiful knolly indications of a change of surface, which gave picturesque lights and shades on their soft green. Or a lonely valley, with smooth fields and labourers at work, tufty clumps of vegetation, and a line of soft willows by a watercourse, varied the picture. Then the ascent began in good earnest, and trees shut it in, and there was everywhere the wild leafy smell of the woods. Night began to shut it in too, for the sun was early hidden from the travellers; the gloom, or the fatigue of the way, gathered inside the coach as well, on all except the occupant of the middle seat. Some time before this his ease-seeking had displayed itself in a new way; and letting himself out of the coach door he had kept up a progress of his own by the side of the vehicle, which quite distanced its slow and toilsome method of advance. For Rollo was not only getting on with a light step up the road, but making acquaintance with every foot of it; gathering flowers, pocketing stones, and finding time to fling others, which rebounded with a racketty hop, skip and jump, down the side of the deep ravine on the edge of which the way was coasting. Then making up for his delay by a mode of locomotion which seemed to speak him kindred to the squirrels, he swung himself over difficult places by the help of hanging branches of trees, and bounded from rock to rock, till he was again far ahead of the horses, and of the road too, lost out of sight in another direction. Now and then a few rich notes of a German air came down, or up, to the coach tantalizingly. Certainly Mr. Rollo was enjoying himself; and it was made more indubitably certain to the poor plodders along inside the coach, by the faint fumes of an excellent cigar which 'whiles' made themselves perceptible.

Now to say the truth, it was all tantalizing to Wych Hazel. In the first place she was, as she had said, 'cramped to death,' physically and mentally,—both parts of her composition just spoiling for a fight; and whereas she had hitherto kept her face well out of the window, now she drew it resolutely within, for with somebody to look at, it did not suit Miss Hazel's ideas to be