ark. He is such a big fellow now; taller
than I am. I sometimes wish," said Lady Mary, laying the miniature on
the table as though she could not bear to shut it away immediately,
"that one's children never grew up. They are such darlings when they
are little, and they are bound, of course, to disappoint one sometimes
as they grow older."

John Crewys felt almost murderously inclined towards Peter. So the
young cub had presumed to disappoint his mother as he grew older! How
dared he?

Poor Lady Mary was quite unconscious of the feelings with which he
gazed at the little case in his hand.

"Not that my boy has ever _really_ disappointed me--yet," she said,
with her pretty apologetic laugh. "I only mean that, in the course of
human nature, it's bound to come, now and then."

"No doubt," said John, gently.

Then she allowed him to examine the rest of the cabinet, whilst she
talked on, always of Peter--his horsemanship and his shooting and his
prowess in every kind of sport and game.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, Lady Belstone was holding a hurried consultation with her
sister.

"How thoughtless you are, Georgina, asking our cousin into the
dining-room just when Ash must be laying the cloth for dinner. He will
be sadly put about."

"Dear, dear, it quite slipped my memory, Isabella."

"You have no head at all, Georgina."

"Can I frame an excuse?" said Miss Crewys, piteously, "or will he
think it discourteous?"

"Leave it to me, Georgina," said Lady Belstone, with the air of a
diplomat. "Mary, my love!"

Lady Mary started. "Yes, Isabella."

"Georgina has very properly recalled to me that candles and lamps make
a very poor light for viewing the family portraits. You know, my love,
the Vandyck is so very dark and black. She proposes, therefore, with
your permission, to act as our cousin's cicerone to-morrow morning, in
the daytime. Shall we say--at eleven o'clock, John?"

Canon Birch started nervously, and the doctor frowned at him.

"At eleven o'clock," said John, in steady tones; and, as he spoke, Sir
Timothy entered the hall.

CHAPTER IV

"Some tea, Timothy?" said Lady Mary.

"If you please, my dear," said Sir Timothy, dropping his letters into
the box.

"I am afraid the tea will be little better than poison, brother," said
Lady Belstone, in warning tones; "it has stood so long."

"Perhaps dear Mary intends to order fresh tea, Isabella," said Miss
Crewys.

"It ha