Arp, he obeyed. Norbert was left a lonely ruin
between the cold, twin dogs. He had wrought
desolation this afternoon, and that sweet verdure,
his good name, so long in the planting, so carefully
tended, was now a dreary waste; yet he contemplated
this not so much as his present aspect of
splendid isolation. Frozen by the daughter of the
house, forgotten by the visitor, whose conversation
with Mr. Arp was carried on in tones so low that he
could not understand it, the fat one, though heart-
breakingly loath to take himself away, began to
comprehend that his hour had struck. He rose,
descended the steps to the bench, and seated himself
unexpectedly upon the cement walk at Ariel's feet.
"Leg's gone to sleep," he explained, in response
to her startled exclamation; but, like a great soul,
ignoring the accident of his position as well as the
presence of Mr. Arp, he immediately proceeded:
"Will you go riding with me to-morrow afternoon?"

"Aren't you very good-natured, Mr. Flitcroft?"
she asked, with an odd intonation.

"I'm imposed on, often enough," he replied,
rubbing his leg, "by people who think I am! Why?"

"It is only that your sitting so abruptly upon
the ground reminded me of something that happened
long ago, before I left Canaan, the last time
I met you."