I am like a child with the best of its cake to come, but with plenty in hand already.

Ah!--stay still a moment, Miss Boyce!" To her amazement he stooped suddenly towards her; and she, looking down, saw that a corner of her light, black dress, which had been overhanging the low stone fender, was in flames, and that he was putting it out with his hands.

She made a movement to rise, alarmed lest the flames should leap to her face--her hair.

But he, releasing one hand for an instant from its task of twisting and rolling the skirt upon itself, held her heavily down.
"Don't move; I will have it out in a moment.

You won't be burnt." And in a second more she was looking at a ragged brown hole in her dress; and at him, standing, smiling, before the fire, and wrapping a handkerchief round some of the fingers of his left hand.
"You have burnt yourself, Mr.Wharton ?" "A little." "I will go and get something--what would you like ?" "A little olive oil if you have some, and a bit of lint--but don't trouble yourself." She flew to find her mother's maid, calling and searching on her way for Mrs.Boyce herself, but in vain.