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Rh mere fact of existing on this bountiful, rich-hued, glorious June day. The parrot ceases to make naughty remarks, he puts his head on one side and appears to be thinking; perhaps he is remembering the days of his youth, perhaps he too enjoys the perfect day and hour, who can tell? The rabbits wander about, the raven stands motionless on the one slender leg that must ache so often; Jack is silent, but for some prosaic reason I am certain, not because his soul his filled with pleasure.

"Nell," he says presently, while I am wondering why the clouds fall into grotesque likenesses of earthly things, not heavenly—human faces, castles, cities, hills—"I'm going to the top of Inky Field, will you come?"

Never yet did I disobey Jack's behest, so I sit up, but very unwillingly. "The governor will see us," I say suggestively; "Inky Field is right before the dining-room windows, you know."

But Jack takes no heed to my caution, so we return to the garden by the way that we came, and inveigle all our animals into their abodes, save our crippled rabbit, who escapes to a verbena bed and there disports himself. A rabbit is an aggravating beast to catch: he has a way of remaining perfectly still till one's hand almost touches him, and then starting suddenly off in a jiggetty jog fashion highly impertinent, while the pursuer measures his length upon the green sward, angry and empty-handed. At last, however, he is caught, and Jack carries him away, while I sit down on an adjacent seat, and fan myself with the top of my double skirt, which I use as duster, fan, or for ornament indiscriminately.

Mother and Mrs. Skipworth have just gone in, but every one else is walking about in a leisurely way; Alice and Milly under the south wall, Dolly and Alan sitting close together in the sun like two plump little partridges, dogs straying about, and fry dimly visible in the distance, everything, in short, looks peaceful and