past eight, and nothing happened. Half-past--and more signs
of life appeared from the bedroom regions. The next member of the family
who came downstairs was Mr. Andrew Vanstone, the master of the house.

Tall, stout, and upright--with bright blue eyes, and healthy, florid
complexion--his brown plush shooting-jacket carelessly buttoned awry;
his vixenish little Scotch terrier barking unrebuked at his heels;
one hand thrust into his waistcoat pocket, and the other smacking the
banisters cheerfully as he came downstairs humming a tune--Mr. Vanstone
showed his character on the surface of him freely to all men. An easy,
hearty, handsome, good-humored gentleman, who walked on the sunny side
of the way of life, and who asked nothing better than to meet all his
fellow-passengers in this world on the sunny side, too. Estimating
him by years, he had turned fifty. Judging him by lightness of heart,
strength of constitution, and capacity for enjoyment, he was no older
than most men who have only turned thirty.

"Thomas!" cried Mr. Vanstone, taking up his old felt hat and his thick
walking stick from the hall table. "Breakfast, this morning, at ten. The
young ladies are not likely to be down earlier after the concert last
night.--By-the-by, how did you like the concert yourself, eh? You
thought it was grand? Quite right; so it was. Nothing but crash-ban g,
varied now and then by bang-crash; all the women dressed within an
inch of their lives; smothering heat, blazing gas, and no room for
anybody--yes, yes, Thomas; grand's the word for it, and comfortable
isn't." With that expression of opinion, Mr. Vanstone whistled to his
vixenish terrier; flourished his stick at the hall door in cheerful
defiance of the rain; and set off through wind and weather for his
morning walk.

The hands, stealing their steady way round the dial of the clock,
pointed to ten minutes to nine. Another member of the family appeared on
the stairs--Miss Garth, the governess.

No observant eyes could have surveyed Miss Garth without seeing at once
that she was a north-countrywoman. Her hard featured face; her masculine
readiness and decision of movement; her obstinate honesty of look and
manner, all proclaimed her border birth and border training. Though
little more than forty years of age, her hair was quite gray; and she
wore over it the plain cap of an old woman. Neither hair nor head-dress
was out of harmony with her face--it looked older than her years: th