Wych Hazel was by this time far enough out of the reserve of first meetings to let the exhilarating June air and sunshine do their work, and her voice, never raised beyond a pretty note, was ready with laugh and word and repartee.  Now studying her hook, now questioning Miss Powder, now answering Mr. Nightingale, and then seriously devoted to her fishing,—­she shewed the absolute sport of her young joyous nature, a thing charming in itself, even without so piquant a setting.  It was no great wonder that a gentleman now and then took ground on the opposite side of the brook, and directed his eyes as if the fish would only come from that point of the shore where Miss Kennedy sat.  This happened more and more, as by degrees the line of fishers was broken and the unskilled or unsuccessful, tired of watching the water, gave it up, and strolled up the brook to see who had better luck.  And so few fish were the result of the day’s sport, so many of the company had nothing better to do than to look at what somebody else was doing, that by degrees nearly the whole party were gathered around that spot where Wych Hazel had caught the first fish.  They were relieved, perhaps, that the effort was over; perhaps the prospect of going home to dinner was encouraging; certainly the spirits of all the party were greatly enlivened by something.  Mme. Lasalle’s ears heard the pleasant sound of voices in full chorus of speech and laughter all the way home.

It was rather late before Madame’s carriage could be ordered to take Miss Kennedy home.  Mme. Lasalle herself attended her, and would suffer the attendance of no one else.  A young moon was shedding a delicious light on the Lollard poplars past which Wych Hazel had cantered in the morning.  It was an hour to be still an enjoy, and think; but did Mme. Lasalle ever think?  She ceased not to talk.  And Wych Hazel, after her day of caressing and petting and admiration, how was she?  She had caught the first fish; she had been queen of the feast; she had given the first toast, she had received the first honours of every eye and ear in the company.  Her host and hostess had lavished all kindness on her; ladies had smiled; and gentlemen, yes, six gentlemen had come down the steps to put her into the carriage.  But if she wanted to think, Mme. Lasalle gave her no chance.

‘Where shall you go to church on Sunday, my dear?’ she asked on the way.

‘Dr. Maryland’s, of course, ma’am.’

’O, that’s where we all go, of course; delightful creature that he is.  And yet he rebukes every single individual thing that one does.  Dear Dr. Maryland, he’s so good, he don’t see what is going in his own family.  Do you know, it makes me unhappy when I think of it.  But, my dear, that’s the very thing I wanted to talk to you about,—­Miss Powder, you’ve seen her, aren’t you pleased with her?’

‘She was very pleasant to me.’

’She is that to everybody, and her mother is a very fine woman.  Now, my dear, you will be at your pleasure, seeing your friends at Chickaree—­couldn’t you contrive to bring Dane and Annabella together again?’