name?"

As Celia told her, Reggie, having secured the harness sufficiently,
brought the now placid and subdued Turk to his mistress.

"Oh, is it all right?" said her ladyship. "Well, Mr. Rex, I'm very much
obliged to you. And so you know this young lady, my friend, Miss Grant!
Dear me, how extraordinary. My dear, is my hat straight?"

It was resting on one ear; and Celia, laughingly, but gently, put it
straight.

"I was going into the village," said Lady Gridborough; "but I suppose
I'd better go home."

"Yes, yes; of course you had!" said Celia. "You must be very much
shaken, if you are not actually hurt."

"Very well, then," said her ladyship. "Get in, my dear. And you, too,
Mr. Rex, if you've not already had enough of me, and Turk."

"I'll come, and drive," said Rex, with marked promptitude.

"Yes, do; though a child might drive him with a match and a piece of
cotton now. This is a very interesting meeting for you two. May one
inquire what you are doing in this locality, young man?"

"I'm taking a bit of a holiday--well, scarcely a holiday; for I'm
thinking out a new novel," said Reggie, modestly, and with a little
blush.

"Dear me, you don't say so," said the old lady, opening her eyes wide.
"Wonder how you do it! Come in search of character, I suppose? Well,
here's your heroine, anyway."

"Yes, she is," said the boy, now blushing outright and nodding at Celia.
"She's been my heroine ever since I first saw her--in the British Museum
Reading Room, you know."

"That's a candid avowal," observed her ladyship, dryly, as Celia
laughed.

They chatted in this pleasant fashion, and, in due course, reached the
Grange. It was quite a merry little lunch, through which Reggie talked
incessantly, to the increased amusement of his good-natured hostess, and
confirming her good opinion of him.

"Now, you two children can go and sit on the terrace while I have my
nap. Wiggins, give Mr. Rex a cigar."

The two went out on the terrace; and scarcely waiting for him to light a
cigar, Celia demanded "his story."

"Oh, well; I've had a stroke of luck," he said, with a long breath. "And
it's all owing to you."

"To me!"

"Yes. You remember that 'short' I sent you? But, of course, you don't."

"Oh, yes, I do," Celia assured him. "It was an awfully good story."

"Well, backed up by all the fine things you said, I sent it to the
editor of the _Piccadilly Magazine_. He accepted it--perhaps he wasn't
well at the time--