The Actress' Daughter. May Agnes Fleming

won't, traveling on one foot not being the pleasantest or speediest mode of locomotion in the world."

      "Now, I declare, if it ain't too bad. I'm real sorry," said Georgia, whose sympathies were all aroused by the good-humor with which Master Charley bore his painful accident.

      "Well, I wouldn't take it too much to heart if I were you, Miss Georgia; it might have been worse, you know—my neck, for instance."

      "I'll tell you what," said Georgia, "I've got an idea."

      "Pshaw! you're only joking," said Charley, incredulously.

      "No, I ain't; I'll go for Miss Jerusha, and make her come here and help you up. You wait."

      "Really," began Charley, but without waiting to hear him, Georgia bounded off, and clambering up the bank with two or three flying leaps reached the high road, and rushed impetuously along toward the cottage.

      "There's an original for you," said the proprietor of the sprained ankle, looking after Georgia. "Well, this sprained ankle is mighty pleasant, I must say. If the old lady comes down she'll have to carry me on her back, for walk I won't."

      Georgia, meanwhile, on charitable thoughts intent, rushed along where she was going, and the consequence was that she ran with stunning force against some person or persons unknown advancing from the opposite direction.

      "Heads up!" said a pleasant voice; and Georgia, who betrayed symptoms of an insane desire to pitch head over heels, was restored to her center of gravity. "Rather an energetic mode of doing business this, I must say."

      Georgia looked up, and jerked herself from the grasp of the stranger, a young man, dressed in a student's plain suit of black, who stood looking at her with a smile.

      "What did you run against me for?" said Georgia, with one of her scowls, instantly taking the offensive.

      "Run against you! Why, you are reversing cases, madam. Allow me to insinuate that you ran against me."

      "I didn't, either! I mean I shouldn't if you hadn't poked yourself right in my way." Then, as a sudden idea struck her, she breathlessly resumed: "Oh, yes; you'll do better than Miss Jerusha! Come along with me to the beach, and help him up!" said Georgia, gesticulating with much earnestness.

      "Help who up, my impetuous little lady?" said the young man, with a smile.

      "Why, him, you know! He tumbled off—I knew he would all along—and went and sprained his ankle, and now he can't get up. It hurts him, I know, though he don't make a fuss or nothing, but talks and looks droll—nice fellow, I know he is! Help him up to our house, and Miss Jerusha'll fix him off, she will! Come! come along, can't you?"

      All this time Georgia had stood, with sparkling eyes, gesticulating eagerly, as was her habit when excited; and now she caught him by the arm and pulled him vigorously along.

      The stranger, with a laugh, allowed himself to be borne on by this breathless little whirlwind; and in less than ten minutes after she had left him, Georgia stood beside Charley Wildair on the beach.

      Charley looked up as they approached, and glancing at her companion, exclaimed:

      "Hallo, Rich! Well, here's a slice of good luck, anyway. How in the world did you scare him up, Miss Georgia?"

      "Why he ran against me," said Georgia, "and nearly knocked my brains out. Do you know him?"

      "I should think I did—rather!" said Charley, emphatically. "Here, Rich, come and help me up, there's a good fellow!"

      "What have you been at now?" said Rich, as he obeyed. "Some piece of nonsense, I'll be bound."

      "No, sir, I haven't been at nonsense. I was attempting to treat myself to a rise in the world by climbing up that rock, and, losing my equilibrium, the first thing I knew I was gracefully extended at full length on the sands, with one limb slightly dislocated, as completely floored an individual as you ever clapped your eyes on. For further particulars, apply to Miss Georgia here. And that reminds me, you haven't been duly presented to that young woman. Allow me to repair that error before proceeding to business. Miss Darrell, let me have the pleasure of presenting to your distinguished notice, my brother, Mr. Richmond Wildair, a young man chiefly remarkable for a rash and inordinate attachment for musty old books, and—having his own way. Mr. Wildair, Miss Georgia Darrell, a young lady whose many estimable qualities and aggravating will of her own require to be seen to be appreciated. Ahem."

      And having, with great empressment and pomposity, delivered himself of this "neat and appropriate" speech, Mr. Charles Wildair drew himself up with dignity—which, as he was obliged to stand on one foot, with the other elevated in the air, hardly made the impression it was intended to make.

      Mr. Richmond Wildair held out his hand to Georgia with a smile, and, after looking at it for a moment, in evident doubt as to the propriety of shaking hands with him, she at last consented to do so with a grave solemnity quite irresistible.

      And thus Richmond Wildair and Georgia Darrell met for the first time. And little did either dream of what the future had in store for them, as they stood side by side on the sands in the golden light of that breezy, sunshiny May morning.

CHAPTER V.

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"LADY MACBETH."

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