"LIKE DIAN'S KISS."

Rosemont was one of the most ideally beautiful summer houses in Fauquier County.

It was a large white mansion, in villa style, surrounded by flower-gardens and pleasure-grounds, with a charming mountain view, and, nearer home, the silvery windings of the Rappahannock River forming the southern boundary of the large estate.

On the afternoon of the picnic Precious Winans swung lazily in a hammock on the long front piazza, while her favorite, Kay, the immense mastiff, lay within touch of the tiny white hand that every little while reached down to caress the tawny head.

At some distance away Mistress Norah, the good-natured nurse, sat cozily in an armchair, knitting lace.

Along the lattice-work that shaded the end of the piazza clambered a great honeysuckle vine loaded with odorous, creamy-white blooms. Here the busy little bees hummed ceaselessly, bright-winged butterflies hovered, and two robins flew in and out of the branches with straws for a nest. The golden sunshine sifting through the leaves in light and shade on the girl's white gown and sunny head seemed like the spirit of peace spreading its brooding wings over the lovely, quiet scene.

Precious had been reading a book of poems. It lay open now under one white hand, and with half-shut, dreamy eyes, she was recalling the last lines she had read:

The velvety blue of the young girl's eyes looked very soft and tender under the long-fringed lashes that were so dark by contrast with the sunshine of her hair.

She was wondering when love would come to her, and if she would find it sweet.

"Ethel is in love, and she seems very happy," she thought. "And there is Earle—he seems grave and thoughtful lately; and my wise nurse, Norah, declares it's because he is losing his heart to a lovely girl down in the village, a little creature with hazel eyes like stars, and a dimpled face all lilies and roses. I would like to see this pretty girl, only Norah keeps me almost a prisoner, lest I should be kidnaped again. I asked Earle about her, and he laughed and colored, and said perhaps he would bring her to see me some day."

She lifted her voice, and cried out:

"Norah, I wish we could go down to the picnic. I can catch voices on the breeze—voices and laughter. They seem to be having a lovely time, and it is so poky here! Earle is there, you know. Do let us go, too—you and me and Kay!"

"Oh no, my dear, not for the world! The doctor said you were to be very quiet here."

"But I am quite well again. See how plump my cheeks are, and how rosy!"

"But, my Precious, you are very nervous yet. In your dreams you start and cry out about the fire, and the dreadful old woman, and your sister Ethel."

"What about Ethel?" demanded Precious quickly, the delicate color flying from her cheeks.

Nurse Norah answered placidly:

"In your dreams, dearie, it always seems as if Ethel had been with you that day when you were struggling to get out of the fire. Once you cried out, 'Ethel, Ethel, the rope is finished, and you are going down first, then I will follow. And you will catch me if I fall!' Then again you cried: 'The rope has broken. Ethel, are you hurt? No, no, I cannot jump now! I am lost! lost! lost!'"

The beautiful eyes of Precious grew wild and startled.

"Oh, what strange dreams!" she cried tremblingly. "I wish you had not listened, Norah; they were only dreams!"

"Yes, I know, my pet, but they show that you are not quite strong yet, and it is better not to go about into society until you are well again. But I think you ought to have some young girls to visit you, and I will ask your brother to bring that little star-eyed village girl to see you."

"She is here now!" cried Earle's voice, with a ripple of laughter in its low music.

They started and looked, and there he stood with a dripping figure by his side, a girl in white flannel, bareheaded, with wet brown curls all over her little head, and starry hazel eyes alight with laughter.

"Miss Conway has had an accident—fallen into the river, Precious, and I brought her up here for some of your dry clothes, also to make your acquaintance, as I knew you were lonely," explained Earle easily.

"You poor darling!" cried Precious, and her heart went out to the little beauty in a swift rush of tenderness. She took Ladybird's hand. "Come, let us go upstairs. My clothes will fit you, I know!"

Earle detained them a moment.

"I am going down to the telegraph office a moment. Please stay here till I come back, Miss Conway. I will take you home in due time."

"I thank you," Ladybird answered with a stiff little courtesy, then she followed Precious and Norah upstairs.

Some dry garments were soon found, and Norah took the wet ones away.

"You shall have them nice and dry directly," she said kindly, but as she took her way kitchenward, she mused: "This pretty girl reminds me very, very much of the lovely Miss Clendenon, Mrs. Winans' girl-friend, that afterward married Mr. Bruce Conway. This one is like her, but it could not be her daughter, for the little one she named for my mistress, Grace Willard, died before it was a year old, and poor Mrs. Conway, sweet little soul, died herself two years after, and I never heard that she left a child, although to be sure we were abroad then, and when we got home all the Conways were dead but Mr. Bruce, and he had disappeared. He always was a rolling stone."

Meanwhile the two young girls, left alone in the beautiful airy room upstairs, proceeded to get acquainted.

"I don't feel any worse from my ducking, dear, but I'll lie on the bed awhile and rest," cried Ladybird, rumpling up her wet curls with taper fingers.

"Do, dear, and tell me all about it. How did you happen to fall in?" asked Precious.

"It's a long story, Miss Winans," laughingly.

"Call me Precious," said the girl sweetly.

"Thank you, I will; but is that your real name? I never heard of any one named Precious."

"My real name is Pearl; but my mamma called me Precious Pearl so much that it became shortened at last to Precious."

"And my name is Lulu, but my dear mamma died soon after I was born, and then papa could not bear to hear that name spoken, because it had been hers. So they began with Ladybird when I was little, and it has been my name ever since, so I will call you Precious if you will call me Ladybird."

"Very well. And now, Ladybird, you will tell me how you came to fall in the water."

She saw the hazel eyes flash with laughter, and Ladybird cried:

"Oh, Precious, will you keep it secret? Will you never, never tell?"

"Never!" answered Precious promptly, and then her guest said gayly:

"I was in a little row-boat on the river, and I fell into the water. They all thought it was an accident, but—you're never to tell any one, you know—I did it purposely. I fell in for them to jump in and rescue me."

"But why?" queried Precious, with astonished blue eyes.

"I will tell you," answered the little madcap, with a silvery peal of laughter. "I have several lovers, Precious, and I wanted to test their love. I thought the one that loved me best would jump in after me."

"And did he, Ladybird?"

"They all jumped, Precious!"

"All? How many?"

"Twelve," answered Ladybird, with a little moue of actual disgust.

Then the astonishment of the other girl's face moved her to mocking laughter.

"You darling girl! how surprised you look! But I don't blame you. It was very silly for them all to jump in after me! I shall never forget when I lay on the bank after I was rescued, how funny they all looked in their wet clothes, as they crowded around me!" and she laughed ungratefully.

"But—twelve lovers!—I never heard of a girl having so many!" and the younger girl's eyes dilated with wonder.

"Did you never have a lover, Precious?"

"No—I am too young—only sixteen," and Precious blushed at the very thought of a lover.

"I am only seventeen, and I have a dozen. I thought I had thirteen, but when I tested them there were but twelve," cried Ladybird, tossing her dainty head with decided pique.

"Did—my—brother—jump in the water after you?" cried Precious quickly.

"No, indeed—he was not a hero like the others," and Ladybird curled a disdainful lip.

"Do you like heroes, Ladybird?"

"I adore them! If I ever marry any one, he must be brave and grand. I couldn't love a coward!"

"I admire heroes too," cried Precious, her cheek glowing with sudden warmth, her violet eyes shining; and then Ladybird cried eagerly:

"You must admire Lord Chester very much, dear, for I read in the papers how he rescued you from a burning house. It was grand, was it not? and I suppose you will be sure to marry him some day, for that is the way it always turns out in novels."

"You must be very romantic," answered Precious, smiling, though the crimson blushes seemed to burn her lovely face. A moment later she added, in a pensive tone: "I have never seen Lord Chester but once. He is very grand and handsome, but he is my sister Ethel's lover."

"Oh! So he saved your life for her sweet sake! She must really adore him for his bravery; but I wish he would fall in love with you now, you beautiful darling!" cried impulsive Ladybird, entirely disregarding Ethel's claim in her love of romantic denouements.

Norah came in just then with Ladybird's clothing nicely dried and pressed, and by the time she was dressed, and the fluffy curls dried, Earle Winans returned to take her home. As it was almost sunset, she took an affectionate leave of her new friend, promising to keep up the pleasant friendship begun to-day, neither of them dreaming of the untoward events that a day was to bring forth.