Nell of Shorne Mills

"And here's the bread--rather stale, I'm afraid--and some biscuits. The

coffee's in that tin, and the water in this jar. Do you know how to make

coffee?"

"Rather!" he said, with mock indignation. "I've made coffee under

various circumstances and in various climes; in the galley of a Porto

Rico coaster; in an American ravine, waiting for the game; on a Highland

moor, when the stags had got scent and the last chance of sport in the

day was gone like a beautiful dream; in an artist's attic in Florence,

where the tobacco smoke was too thick to cut with anything less than a

hatchet; and after a skirmish with the dervishes, when a cup of coffee

seemed almost as precious as the life one had just managed to save by

the skin of one's teeth; but I never made it under more pleasant

circumstances than these."

He looked up and round him as he spoke, with a brighter expression on

his face than she had as yet seen, and Nell regarded him with a sudden

interest.

"How much you have traveled!" she said--"that mackerel wants turning;

raise the pan so that the butter can run under the fish; that's it--and

how much you must have seen! Italy, Egypt, Porto Rico--where is that?

Oh, I remember! How delightful to have seen so much! You must be a very

fortunate individual!"

She leaned her chin in her brown, shapely hands, and looked at him

curiously, and with a frank envy in her gray eyes.

His face clouded for a moment.

"Count no man fortunate until he is dead!" he said, adapting the

aphorism. "Believe me that I'd change places with you at this moment,

and throw in all my experiences."

She laughed incredulously.

"With me? Oh, you can't mean it. It is very flattering, of course; but

it's absurd. Why"--she paused and sighed--"I've never been anywhere, or

seen anything. I've never been to London even, since I was quite a

little girl, and----Change places with me!" She laughed again, just a

little sadly. "Yes, it does sound absurd. For one thing, you wouldn't

like to be poor; and we are poor, you know."

"Poor and content is rich enough," he remarked sententiously. Then he

laughed. "I'm as good as a copy book with moral headings this morning."

Nell smiled.

"I think that is nonsense, like most copy-book headings. And yet----Yes,

I should be content enough if it were not for Dick. After all, one can

be happy though one is poor, especially if one lives in a beautiful

place like Shorne Mills, and has a boat to sail in the summer, and books

in the winter, and knows all the people round, and----"