"The lessons shall cease at once, Mr. Worters."
Here she came up to us. "Harcourt, there are seventy-eight trees. I have had such a count."
He smiled down at her. Let me remember to say that he is tall and handsome, with a strong chin and liquid brown eyes, and a high forehead and hair not at all gray. Few things are more striking than a photograph of Mr. Harcourt Worters.
"Seventy-eight trees?"
"Seventy-eight."
"Are you pleased?"
"Oh, Harcourt———!"
I began to pack up the tea-things. They both saw and heard me. It was their own fault if they did not go further.
"I'm looking forward to the bridge," said he. "A rustic bridge at the bottom, and then, perhaps, an asphalt path from the house over the meadow, so that in all weathers we can walk here dry-shod. The boys come into the wood—look at all these initials—and I thought of putting a simple fence, to prevent any one but ourselves———"
"Harcourt!"
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