The Quest of the Golden Girl: A Romance

d left it, she was still sleeping as sound as ever. She had only to sleep long enough, a sly thought suggested, to necessitate her ending her day's journey at t

e, and, I confess, to give my eyes some other occupation than the dangerous one of gazing upon her face, dangerous in more ways than one, but particula

and starting in terror at every noise. Once a great noisy bee was within an ace of wak

so summarily. The worst of all was a heavy miller's cart which one could hardly crush to silence in one's handk

hing but some ferocious pantomime and a shilling persu

ilar manner,-though he only cost sixpence. He gave me a Southern smile and shrug of comprehension, as one acquainted with affa

d putting up her hands to her tousled hair, with a half-startled "Where am I?" When her hair was once more "respectable," she gave her skirts a shake, bent sideways to pull up her

e!" were the first words I w

d in the india-rubber w

ion, "why, there's nothing wrong

a mound of brambles; and before she had time to take in the situation I added that I hoped she'd excuse my little pleasantry, and told her how I

ness itself o

't tell the load you've taken off my mind. I'm sure I must have g

didn't dare to smile outright till they had permi

id you

wouldn't have cried themselv

an, anyhow," she laughed; "w

ive a thousand pounds for

you should get a real silver frame and gold handle-bars for that, don't you think? Well, it would

it's growing da

on your inn?" I continued innocently. She had-but that was

ave wakened

o explanation of the dead bee which at the moment I espied a little away in

d for her; and it was presently arranged that she should ride on to the Wheel of

strode along the sunset lanes, hearing for some time the chiming of her bell in front

better five mi