“It is loose, I say,” insisted the princess, with a little irritation; “the saddle feels like it.  Try the other.”  Then turning impatiently to the persons gathered around:  “Does it require all of you, standing there like gaping bumpkins, to tighten my girth?  Ride on; we can manage this without so much help.”  Upon this broad hint everybody rode ahead while I held the horse for Brandon, who went on with his search for the loose girth.  While he was looking for it Mary leaned over her horse’s neck and asked:  “Were you and Cavendish settling all the philosophical points now in dispute, that you found him so interesting?”

“Not all,” answered Brandon, smiling.

“You were so absorbed, I supposed it could be nothing short of that.”

“No,” replied Brandon again.  “But the girth is not loose.”

“Perhaps I only imagined it,” returned Mary carelessly, having lost interest in the girth.

I looked toward Jane, whose eyes were bright with a smile, and turned Brandon’s horse over to him.  Jane’s smile gradually broadened into a laugh, and she said:  “Edwin, I fear my girth is loose also.”

“As the Lady Mary’s was?” asked I, unable to keep a straight face any longer.

“Yes,” answered Jane, with a vigorous little nod of her head, and a peal of laughter.

“Then drop back with me,” I responded.

The princess looked at us with a half smile, half frown, and remarked:  “Now you doubtless consider yourselves very brilliant and witty.”

“Yes,” returned Jane maliciously, nodding her head in emphatic assent, as the princess and Brandon rode on before us.

“I hope she is satisfied now,” said Jane sotto voce to me.

“So you want me to ride with you?” I replied.

“Yes,” nodded Jane.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I want you to,” was the enlightening response.

“Then why did you not dance with me the other evening?”

“Because I did not want to.”

“Short but comprehensive,” thought I, “but a sufficient reason for a maiden.”

I said nothing, however, and after a time Jane spoke:  “The dance was one thing and riding with you is another.  I did not wish to dance with you, but I do wish to ride with you.  You are the only gentleman to whom I would have said what I did about my girth being loose.  As to the new dance, I do not care to learn it because I would not dance it with any man but you, and not even with you—­yet.”  This made me glad, and coming from coy, modest Jane meant a great deal.  It meant that she cared for me, and would, some day, be mine; but it also meant that she would take her own time and her own sweet way in being won.  This was comforting, if not satisfying, and loosened my tongue:  “Jane, you know my heart is full of love for you—­”