“But he cannot be sure.  And I promise you, Charlie, that, if Mr. ——­ asks me then, I will think about it,—­and if you are better, go with him.  More I will not promise.”

“A year from last February, you mean?”—­A pause.

“Encroacher!  Yes, then.”

“And you will write to him to say so?”

“Indeed!  That would be pretty behavior!”

“But as you rejected him decidedly, he may form new”——­She clapped her hand upon my mouth.

“Dare to say it!” she cried.

I removed her hand, and said, eagerly, “Now, Kate, do not trifle.  I must have some certainty that I am not wrecking your happiness.  I cannot wait a year in suspense.  I am a man.  I have not the patience of your incomprehensible sex.”

“I have more than patience to support me, Charlie,” she whispered.  “He insisted upon refusing to take a positive answer then, and said he should return again next spring, to see if I were in the same mind.  So be at ease!”

I sighed, unsatisfied.

“I am sure he will come,” she said, turning quite away, that I might not dwell upon her warm blush.

“There is Ben with the horse.  Are you ready?” she asked, glad to change the subject.

I was always ready for that I had enjoyed the “jaunting-car-r-r” so much, that my sister, resolved to gratify me further, had made comfortable arrangements for longer excursions.  I found that I could sit up, if well supported by pillows; and so Kate had her “cabriolet” brought out and repaired.

She had not the least idea of what a cabriolet might be, when she named her vehicle so; but it sounded fine and foreign, and was a sort of witty contrast to the misshapen affair it represented.  It was indescribable in form, but had qualities which recommended it to me.  It was low, wide-seated, high-backed, broad, and long.  The front wheels turned under, which was a lucky circumstance, as Kate was to be driver.  Ben could not be spared from his work, and I was out of the question.

We have a horse to match this unique affair, called “Old Soldier,”—­an excellent name for him; though, if Kate reads this remark, she will take mortal offence at it.  She calls the venerable fellow her charger, because he makes such bold charges at the steep hills,—­the only occasions upon which the cunning beast ever exerts himself in the least, well knowing that he will be instantly reined in.  Kate has a horror of going out of a walk, on either ascent or descent, because “up-hill is such hard pulling, and down-hill so dangerous!”

Old Soldier can discern a grade of five feet to the mile of either.  If I did not know his history, (an old omnibus horse,) I should say he must have practised surveying for years.  He accommodates himself most obligingly to his mistress’s whims, and walks carefully most of the time, except when he is ambitious of great praise at little cost, when he makes the charges aforesaid.