Mr. Achilles

touched it swiftly and fingered her hair and swept past. Presently she looked up wi

tone, "we must do the errands

" she said simply. She sat very quiet, her eyes on th

rries bobbed forward. "I didn't know they would spill!" She had found the handkerchief now an

, with a little head-s

s and they came-just came!-They just came!" she repeated sternly. She gave a f

to-day," she said, "-and to-morrow we start for

"He can make us a visit," she said, nodding-

aking her head. "He could

and talk-about the gods, you know-" She lifted her eyes, "and we shall go in th

ey had hurried to get away to the fields. This was their last drive. To-morrow the horses would be sent on; and the next day th

clicking hoofs and soft-shining skins and arching necks. The sound of the hoofs on the pavement played little tunes for Betty. Her mother had protested against e

ting cars that pushed and sped. It was like a delicate dream that shimmered and touched the pavement-or like a

to the busy street and out again into a long avenue wh

shining on the grey stones and on the pavement-and the little jingling

rriage had drawn up before the great shadow of a house. She ga

nute's question and, with a no

er watch-the errand had taken more than its minute, and there were others to

Stone did not stir. Her glance swept the quiet street and came back to

e searching space. "There wa'n't nobody!" he said. He almost shouted it, and his big hands g

g a little forward on the seat-of course the child had gone to the Greek-to Mr. Achilles.... They should find her in a minute. There was no

ed awning, and Miss Stone had descended before the wheel scraped the curb, her glance

e eyes that looked out at her held a welcome. "You do me honour," he said. "I hope Madame is well-and the little Lady-?" Then

, and the look in her

hind him, and a boy came running, his eyes

I go." He had taken off his white apron and seized a hat

ce and put her hand to her head.

ance. "When we go, you t

im-and the clear colour came to

d. "We find her," he

e tangle of wheels and horses and noise-and she told him the story, shouting it a

change. "We find her," he repeated each time, and Miss Stone's he

house on the

doubt. Her face broke-"She m

you," sai

vacant softness, and into the library with its ranging rows of perfect books. She motioned him before her. "I must tell them," she said