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"I should like a few of those strawberries," he said, gently, and
she raised to his a face he never forgot. Involuntarily he
raised his hat, in homage to her youth and her shy, sweet beauty.
"For whom are you gathering these?" he asked, wondering who she
was, and whence she came.
In a moment the young girl stood up, and made the prettiest and
most graceful of courtesies.
"They are for the housekeeper, sir," she replied; and her voice
was musical and clear as a silver bell.
"Then may I ask who you are?" continued Ronald.
"I am Dora Thorne," she replied, "the lodge keeper's daughter."
"How is it I have never seen you before?" he asked.
"Because I have lived always with my aunt, at Dale," she replied.
"I only came home last year."
"I see," said Ronald. "Will you give me some of those
strawberries?" he asked. "They look so ripe and tempting."
He sat down on one of the garden chairs and watched her. The
pretty white fingers looked so fair, contrasted with the crimson
fruit and green leaves. Deftly and quickly she contrived a small
basket of leaves, and filled it with fruit.


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