Helen crossed to the stream and stood staring down at its moving waters. She tested the water with the toes of one foot and seemed to be satisfied with her findings. She lowered herself immediately to the thick grass of the bank, hitched her skirt almost to the knees, and lowered both feet into the water. She swished them around for a while, enjoying the delightful coolness after the confined heat of her boots.

She looked around her at the wildflowers that were almost lost in the long grass, at the heavy summer foliage of her favorite tree, the old oak, which grew close to the bank, and up to the sky, which still swirled with heavy clouds. She breathed deeply of the heavy summer scents of it all and closed her eyes with a smile of satisfaction. Oh yes, it would be worth every moment of that scolding she was bound to be subjected to.

Finally Helen opened her book, a much coveted copy of Mr. Wordsworth and Mr. Coleridge's Lyrical Ballads. Soon her mind was in a totally different world, a world

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

Everything was forgotten: her feet gradually growing colder and colder in the water, the grass and trees around her, the clouds growing heavier with the promised rain, her father's drawing room where the rest of the family was gathered, and Mr. Mainwaring.

Chapter 2

“A ladies' man," said the Earl of Claymore.

"A most genteel sort of a man," said the countess, "though his manners are a little stiff."