ed at it. As
if a girl of Dinah's age were not capable of travelling alone! But then
of course she had been ill, very ill according to all accounts; and it
was quite decent of them to bestow so much care upon her.

He fell to wondering if the child had got spoilt at all during her long
absence from home and the harsh discipline thereof. If so, there was a
hard time before her; for Lydia was never one to stand any nonsense. She
had always been hard on her first-born, unreasonably hard, he sometimes
thought; though it was not his business to interfere. The task of
chastising the daughter of the family was surely the mother's exclusive
prerogative; and certainly Lydia had carried it out very thoroughly. And
if at times he thought her over-severe, he could not deny that the result
achieved was eminently satisfactory. Dinah was always docile and active
in his service--altogether a very good child; and this was presumably due
to her mother's training. No, on the whole he had not much fault to find
with either of them. Doubtless Lydia understood her own sex best.

He was nearing the end of the long lane; it terminated close to his home.
Rupert quickened his pace. They were both splashed with mud from shoulder
to heel. They had both had more than enough of the wet and the slush.

"That's right, Rupert, my boy!" the man murmured. "Finish in style!"

They came out from beneath the over-arching trees, emerging upon the
high road that led from Great Mallowes to Perrythorpe. The hoot of a
motor-horn caused Rupert to prick his ears, and his master reined him
back as two great, shining head-lights appeared round a curve. They
drew swiftly near, flashed past, and were gone meteor-like into the
gloom.

"Whose car was that, I wonder?" mused Bathurst.

"The de Vignes's? It didn't look like one of the Court cars, but the old
bird is always buying something new. Lucky devil!"

The thought of the Colonel renewed his thoughts of Dinah. Certain hints
the former had dropped had made him wonder a little if the child were
always as demure as she seemed. Not that Colonel de Vigne had actually
found fault with her. He was plainly fond of her. But he had not spoken
as if Dinah had effaced herself as completely abroad as she did at home.

"Oh, yes, the little baggage enjoyed herself--was as gay as a lark--till
she got ill," he had said. "You may find her something of a handful when
she gets back, Bathurst. She's stretched her wings a bit since