Miss Kinnaird, however, was not quite satisfied.
"Can't you take up that ax and look as if you were ready to use it ?" she said.

"Oh, no! That is far too much like a waxwork! Hold up your head a little! Now, don't move any more than you can help! I think that will do." Weston stood as he was for the best part of an hour.

He felt inclined to wonder why he did it, as he had not found shoveling gravel anything like so difficult.

Then Miss Kinnaird informed him that, as she desired to make a study of the background, she would not keep him any longer; and he strolled away to the waterside, where, after stretching himself wearily, he lay down and took out his pipe.

He had not been there long when Ida, who came out from among the trees, sat down on one of the boulders not far from him.
"You must have been horribly cramped, but it didn't strike Miss Kinnaird, or she wouldn't have kept you there so long," she said.
"No," answered Weston, reflectively, "I don't think it would strike Miss Kinnaird.