The Real Charlotte, 117 



" Shamming," was the answer, still with closed eyes. 



" Don't you think you could open your eyes ? " 

 " No." 



Another short period of silence ensued, and the sound 

 of summer in the air round them strengthened and deepened, 

 as the colour strengthens and deepens in a blush. A wasp 

 strayed in under the canopy of the lime and idled inquisi- 

 tively about Francie's hat and the bunch of mignonette in 

 her belt, but she lay so still under this supreme test that 

 Lambert thought she must be really asleep, and taking out 

 his handkerchief prepared to route the invader. At the 

 same moment there came a sound of wheels and a fast- 

 trotting horse on the road ; it neared them rapidly, and 

 Miss Fitzpatrick leaped to her feet and put aside the leaves 

 of the lime just in time to see the back of Mr. Hawkins' 

 head as his polo-cart spun past the Tally Ho gate. 



" I declare I thought it was Mr. Dysart," she said, looking 

 a little ashamed of herself ; " I wonder where in the name 

 of fortune is Mr. Hawkins going ? " 



" I thought you were so dead asleep you couldn't hear 

 anything," said Lambert, with a black look ; " he's not 

 coming here, anyhow." 



She dropped back into the corner of the seat again as if 

 the start forward had tired her. 



" Oh ! I was so frightened at the wasp, and I wouldn't 

 let on ! " 



" I wonder why you're always so unfriendly with me now," 

 began Lambert suddenly, fixing his eyes upon her; ''there 

 was once on a time when we were great friends, and you 

 used to write to me, and you'd say you were glad to see me 

 when I went up to town, but now you're so set up with your 

 Dysarts and your officers that you don't think your old 

 friends worth talking to." 



" Oh ! " Francie sat up and faced her accuser valiantly, 

 but with an inwardly-stricken conscience. '* You know 

 that's a dirty, black lie ! " 



" I came over here this afternoon," pursued Lambert, 

 "very anxious about you, and wanting to tell you how sorry 

 I was, and how I accused myself for what had happened — 

 and how am I treated ? You won't so much as take the 

 trouble to speak to me. I suppose if I was one of your 



