speak again throughout the drive. He sat with his eyes
bent on his newspaper, his hand playing with his moustache, a frown on
his handsome face. It was not until the carriage stopped at the door of
Strathleckie, and he had given his hand to Kitty to help her down that
he opened his lips.

"Don't repeat what you have said to me to any other person, please."

"Of course not, Percival."

There was no time for more. The barking of dogs, the shouts of children,
the greeting of Mr. Heron, prevented anything further. Percival looked
round impatiently. But Elizabeth was not there.

He was tired, although he would not confess it, with his night journey;
and a bath, breakfast, and change of clothes did not produce their usual
exhilarating effect. He found it difficult to talk to his father or to
support the noise made by the children. Kitty's hint had put his mind
into a ferment.

"Can these boys not be sent to their lessons?" he said, at last,
knitting his brows.

"Oh, don't you know?" said Harry, cutting a delighted caper. "We have
holidays now. Mr. Stretton has gone away. He went away a fortnight ago,
or nearly three weeks now."

Percival looked suddenly at Kitty, who coloured vividly.

"Why did he go?" he asked.

"I'm sure I can't tell you," said Mr. Heron, almost peevishly. "Family
affairs, he said. And now he has gone to South America. I don't
understand it at all."

Neither did Percival.

"Where is Elizabeth?" said Mr. Heron, looking round the room as if in
search of her. "She can't know that Percival has come: go and tell her,
one of you boys."

"No, never mind," said Percival, quickly; but it was too late, the boy
was gone.

There was a little silence. Percival sat at one side of the
whitely-draped table, with a luxurious breakfast before him and a great
bowl of autumn flowers. The sunshine streamed in brightly through the
broad, low windows; the pleasant room was fragrant with the scent of the
burning wood upon the fire; the dogs wandered in and out, and stretched
themselves comfortably upon the polished oak floor. Kitty sat in a
cushioned window-seat and looked anxious; Mr. Heron stood by the
fireplace and moved one of the burning logs in the grate with his foot.
A sort of constraint had fallen over the little party, though nobody
quite knew why; and it was not dispelled, even when Harry's footsteps
were heard upon the stairs, and he threw open the door for Elizabeth.

Percival threw down his serviet