say that there are not two better horses of their sort in the
county," Stafford said, solemnly, and with a flush of his handsome
face.

Sir Stephen's eyes gleamed.

"That's all right: they can't be too good, Stafford."

The head groom, Davis by name, stood, with Pottinger and some
underlings, at a little distance in attendance, and the men exchanged
glances and nods.

"Have you seen these, Pottinger?" asked Stafford, turning to him, and
speaking in the tone which servants love.

Pottinger touched his forehead.

"Yes, sir; they're first rate, and no mistake. I've just been telling
Mr. Davis he's got a splendid lot, sir--splendid!"

"Not but what your own pair 'ud be hard to beat, sir," said Davis,
respectfully. "There's a mare here, Sir Stephen, I should like to show
Mr. Stafford."

The mare was taken out into the yard, and Stafford examined her and
praised her with a judgment and enthusiasm which filled Davis's heart
with pride.

"Your young guv'nor's the right sort, Pottinger," he remarked as
Stafford at last reluctantly tore himself away from the stables. "Give
me a master as understands a horse and I don't mind working for him."

Pottinger nodded and turned the straw in his mouth.

"If you're alludin' to Mr. Stafford, then you'll enjoy your work, Mr.
Davis; for you've got what you want. What my guv'nor don't know about a
'oss isn't worth knowing."

"So I should say," assented Davis, emphatically. "I do hate to have a
juggins about the place. Barker, _is_ that a spot o' rust on that
pillar-chain, or is my eyesight deceiving me? No, my men, if there's
the slightest thing askew when Mr. Stafford walks round, I shall break
my heart--and sack the man who's responsible for it. Pottinger, if
you'd like that pair o' yours moved, if you think they ain't
comfortable, you say so, and moved they shall be."

As Sir Stephen and Stafford strolled back to the house the former
paused now and again to point out something he wished Stafford to see,
always appealing for his approval.

"Everything is perfect, sir," Stafford said at last. "And, above all,
the situation," he added as he looked at the magnificent view, the opal
lake mirroring the distant mountains, flecked by the sunlight and the
drifting clouds.

"Yes, I was fortunate in getting it," remarked Sir Stephen.

Instantly there flashed across Stafford's mind--and not for the first
time that morning--the words Ida Heron had spoken respecting the way in
whic