riendly manager once warned me in confidence. You'll be glad to have a
bit of white fish after so much grilse and sea-trout."

"Oh, I'll take my chance," Lionel said; it was not dinner that was
occupying his thoughts.

There was a sound of horses' hoofs and carriage wheels; the wagonette
was being brought round to the front door.

"I consider it very shabby of Honnor not to have stayed to say
good-bye," Lady Adela said to her departing guest. "She might have given
up one morning's fishing, I think, especially as you have been such an
assiduous attendant--carrying her things for her, and keeping her
company on those long excursions--"

"Oh, don't be afraid," said Miss Georgie, with a bit of a covert laugh.
"Honnor won't forsake her friend like that. I'll bet you she won't be
far from the Horse's Drink when Mr. Moore has to cross the stream."

"If I were you," Lord Rockminster finally said, in a confidential
undertone, as they all rose from the table, "I would telegraph about
dinner."

How Lionel hated the sight of this open door, and the wagonette, and the
portmanteau up beside the coachman!

"Good-bye, Mr. Moore," said the pleasant-mannered young matron to him,
as she took his hand for a moment. "I'm afraid it has been awfully dull
for you--"

"Lady Adela!" he said.

"But the next time you come we shall try to be less monotonously
bucolic. Perhaps by then the phonograph will be able to bring us a whole
musical evening from London, whenever we want it--a whole performance of
an operetta--"

"Offenbach in a Highland valley!" he exclaimed.

"No," she said, very quietly and graciously; "but perhaps something by
the composer of 'The Squire's Daughter'--and there might be in it an air
as delightful as that of 'The Starry Night.' Oh, Mr. Moore, don't let
them produce any other piece at the New Theatre until we all get back to
London again! Well, good-bye--it's so kind of you to have taken pity on
us in this wilderness--"

"If you knew how sorry I am to go, Lady Adela!" he said. "And will you
say good-bye for me to Miss Cunyngham?"

"You needn't bother to leave a message," said Miss Georgie, with
significant eyes. "You'll find she won't be far away from the Horse's
Drink."

And as it chanced, Miss Georgie's forecast (whether inspired by a saucy
impertinence or not) proved correct. Lionel, having bade farewell to all
these friends, got into the wagonette; and away the carriage
went--quietly, at first, over the