t do any mischief. Your gardens
shall be respected."

"They are your gardens now, Roderick. You are sole master here, and can
do what you please."

"My dear mother, how can you talk like that? Do you suppose I shall
ever forget who made the place what it is? The gardens have been your
particular hobby, and they shall be your gardens to the end of time."

"That is very generous of you, my dear Roderick; but you are promising
too much. When you marry, your wife will be mistress of Briarwood, and
it will be necessary for me to find a new home."

"I am in no hurry to get married. It will be half-a-dozen years before
I shall even think of anything so desperate."

"I hope not, Roderick. With your position and your responsibilities you
ought to marry young. Marriage--a suitable marriage, that is to
say--would give you an incentive to earnestness and ambition. I want to
see you follow your father's footsteps; I want you to make a name
by-and-by."

"I'm afraid it will be a distant by-and-by," said Rorie, with a yawn.
"I don't feel at all drawn towards the senate. I love the country, my
dogs, my horses, the free fresh air, the stir and movement of life too
well to pen myself up in a study and pore over blue-books, or to waste
the summer evenings listening to the member for Little Peddlington
laying down the law about combination drainage, or the proposed
loop-line that is intended to connect his borough with the world in
general. I'm afraid it isn't in me, mother, and that you'll be sorely
disappointed if you set your heart upon my making a figure as a
senator."

"I should like to see you worthy of your father's name," Lady Jane
said, with a regretful sigh.

"Providence hasn't made me in the same pattern," answered Rorie. "Look
at my grandfather's portrait over the mantelpiece, in pink and mahogany
tops. What a glorious fellow he must have been. You should hear how the
old people talk of him. I think I inherit his tastes, instead of my
father's. Hereditary genius crops up in curious ways, you know.
Perhaps, if I have a son, he will be a heaven-born statesman, and you
may have your ambition gratified by a grandson. And now about the
hunting breakfast. Would this day week suit you?"

"This is your house, Roderick. It is for you to give your orders."

"Bosh!" exclaimed the son impatiently. "Don't I tell you that you are
mistress here, and will be mistress----"

"My dear Roderick, let us look things straight in the face