that, I know, ma," said Fin,
nodding her head. "But isn't it vexatious, mamma, dear?"

"It'll all come right, my dear," said Lady Rea, kissing her child
fondly. "There, now, go and get ready, or papa will be cross."

Fin felt ready to say "I don't care," so rebellious was the spirit that
invested her that day; but she set her teeth, and ran to the door.

"You're coming, mamma?"

"No, my dear, Tiny will go with you. I shall stay in this afternoon."

"And leave Aunt Matty to say disagreeable things to you. Then I shall
stay, too."

"No, no, dear, go--to please me," said Lady Rea; and the girl ran off.

The waggonette was round, and Sir Hampton was drawing on his gloves, the
image of punctuality, when Fin came rushing down, closely followed by
her sister, and the party started for the little station town, Saint
Kitt's, passing on the road another handsome new waggonette, with a
fine, well-paced pair of horses.

"I wonder whose turn-out that is?" said Sir Hampton. "Strange thing
that everybody gets better horses than I do."

"I know whose it is," said Fin, demurely.

"Whose?" said Sir Hampton.

"Daren't say," replied Fin. "Ask Edward. Edward!" she cried, "whose
carriage is that?"

"Think it's Mr Trevor's, ma'am," said the footman, touching his hat.

"Er-rum," ejaculated Sir Hampton, and Fin nudged her sister and made her
colour.

The box was at the station, and it was put in the waggonette by a tall
porter, whom Fin spoke of to her sister as the signal post, and then she
proposed that they should wait and see if anything would come by the
train due in a few minutes.

Now, Sir Hampton expected something by that train, but he had been so
crossed that day, and was in such a contrary mood, that he exclaimed--

"Er-rum, absurd; certainly not. Drive back at once."

Fin made a grimace at her sister, who replied with a look of
remonstrance; Sir Hampton sat back and frowned at the landscape, as if
he thought it too green; and away they bowled just as the whistle of the
engine was heard in the distance.

Something has been said before about the Cornish lanes, and the way in
which the granite bones of Mother Nature peer out and form buttresses to
the banks, huge pillars, and mighty corners. The lane they were
traversing on their way back was not one of the least rugged, though the
road was good; and they had gone at a pretty sharp trot for about a
mile, when a cart came rattling along just at a turn of t