s wheeled up to the broad
hearth, and presently the old silver tea-pot and kettle, and the yellow
cups and saucers, were shining in the cheery firelight. The old butler
put a sirloin and a game-pie on the sideboard, and then left the little
party to shift for themselves, in pleasant picnic fashion.

Vixen sat down before the hissing tea-kettle with a pretty important
air, like a child making tea out of toy tea-things. Rorie brought a low
square stool to a corner close to her, and seated himself with his chin
a little above the tea-table.

"You can't eat roast beef in that position," said Vixen.

"Oh yes I can--I can do anything that's mad or merry this evening. But
I'm not at all sure that I want beef, though it is nearly three months
since I've seen an honest bit of ox beef. I think thin bread and
butter--or roses and dew even--quite substantial enough for me this
evening."

"You're afraid of spoiling your appetite for the grand dinner," said
Vixen.

"No, I'm not. I hate grand dinners. Fancy making a fine art of eating,
and studying one's _menu_ beforehand to see what combination of dishes
will harmonise best with one's internal economy. And then the names of
the things are always better than the things themselves. It's like a
show at a fair, all the best outside. Give me a slice of English beef
or mutton, and a bird that my gun has shot, and let all the fine-art
dinners go hang."

"Cut him a slice of beef, dear Miss McCroke," said Vixen.

"Not now, thanks; I can't eat now. I'm going to drink orange pekoe."

Argus had taken up his position between Violet and her visitor. He sat
bolt upright, like a sentinel keeping guard over his mistress; save
that a human sentinel, unless idiotic or intoxicated, would hardly sit
with jaws wide apart, and his tongue hanging out of one side of his
mouth, as Argus did. But this lolloping attitude of the canine tongue
was supposed to indicate a mind at peace with creation.

"Are you very glad to come of age, Rorie?" asked Vixen, turning her
bright brown eyes upon him, full of curiosity.

"Well, it will be rather nice to have as much money as I want without
asking my mother for it. She was my only guardian, you know. My father
had such confidence in her rectitude and capacity that he left
everything in her hands."

"Do you find Briarwood much improved?" inquired Miss McCroke.

Lady Jane had been doing a good deal to her orchid-houses lately.

"I haven't found Briarwood at