"Possibly," he returns, smiling; "but now you are here you will let me tell my news, won't you?"
Then in a few words he tells her of the conversation that has been held that morning by the Mr. Talboys and himself.
"I am so glad!" exclaims Honor, holding out her hand in the impulse of the moment, "and they will be so delighted at home too! You work so hard and are so good to every one, I am sure you thoroughly deserve this good fortune."
"The brothers find serious fault with me for one thing, however," resumes the doctor after a short pause. "They think it is high time I thought of getting married."
"Oh!" says Honor, and suddenly discovering that her hand is still resting in that of Sinclair, she gently draws it away and strokes Jack's velvet nose.
"Yes, they say a doctor ought to be a married man. I think so too. What do _you_ say, Miss Honor?"
"O, I daresay it may be well in some cases, but you have got on very well so far."
"Yes, so far perhaps," and letting the reins drop, that Jack may graze at will, Sinclair seats himself on the stile, a plank below Honor.
"By the by," he says, looking up suddenly, "you remember that story I have often told Daisy, about the wood-cutter and the princess? You must have heard it, because I am sure I have told it some hundreds of times altogether. Well, I have to revise it, to suit her little ladyship's taste. She no longer approves of it as it was. I thought, perhaps, you might help me. First of all the princess, so far as I remember, had no name. I don't think I ever troubled myself about giving her one. Now, what do you think of 'Honoria'--Princess Honoria? I think it sounds well; do you?"
"O yes," replies the girl, laughing a little. "That would do very well, I daresay."
"Well then, do you think 'John' too commonplace a name for the wood-cutter?"
"I think you might find one better suited to a fairy tale," she says quietly.
"Do you? Oh, I think it would do so well. O yes, certainly; his name must be John. You can settle the next question for me. Daisy says the wood-cutter is to ask the princess to marry him. Shall he do so, Honor?"
Poor Honor! She cannot get off the stile, because there sits the doctor below, making her descent practically impossible until he chooses to move; and her broad-brimmed hat, though effectually shading her eyes from the sun, cannot shield her from the earnest eyes looking up so anxiously into her face. She cannot put up her sun-shade either, for both her hands are now imprisoned, and while flushing painfully she tries to withdraw them, she looks away across the fields and says nothing.