land better, or ride straighter to
hounds, or do my duty better to my tenants."

"Education," said Miss McCroke sententiously, "is always a good, and we
cannot too highly estimate its influence upon----"

"Oh yes, I know," answered Rorie quickly, for he knew that when the
floodgates of Miss McCroke's eloquence were once loosened the tide ran
strong, "when house and lands are gone and spent a man may turn usher
in an academy, and earn fifty pounds a year and his laundress's bill by
grinding Caesar's Commentaries into small boys. But I shouldn't lay in
a stock of learning with that view. When my house and lands are gone
I'll go after them--emigrate, and go into the lumber trade in Canada."

"What a dreadful idea," said Mrs. Tempest; "but you are not going to
lose house and lands, Roderick--such a nice place as Briarwood."

"To my mind it's rather a commonplace hole," answered the young man
carelessly, "but the land is some of the best in the county."

It must be nearly seven by this time, he thought. He was getting
through this period of probation better than he had expected. Mrs.
Tempest gave a little stifled yawn behind her huge black fan, upon
which Cupids and Graces, lightly sketched in French gray, were depicted
dancing in the airiest attitudes, after Boucher. Roderick would have
liked to yawn in concert, but at this juncture a sudden ray of light
flashed upon him and showed him a way of escape.

"I think I'll go to the gentleman's room, and make myself decent before
the second bell rings," he said.

"Do," assented Mrs. Tempest, with another yawn; and the young man fled.

He had only time to scramble through a hurried toilet, and was still
feeling very doubtful as to the parting of his short crisp hair, when
the gong boomed out its friendly summons. The gentleman's room opened
from the hall, and Rorie heard the Squire's loud and jovial voice
uplifted as he raised the tapestry curtain.

Mr. Tempest was standing in front of the log fire, pulling Vixen's
auburn hair. The girl had put on a picturesque brown velvet frock. A
scarlet sash was tied loosely round her willowy waist, and a scarlet
ribbon held back the rippling masses of her bright hair.

"A study in red and brown," thought Rorie, as the fire-glow lit up the
picture of the Squire in his hunting-dress, and the girl in her warm
velvet gown.

"Such a run, Rorie," cried the Squire; "we dawdled about among the
furze from twelve till four doing nothing, a