muscular, and with such a moustache as was unequalled by any young
fellow of his age in the country-side. He wore a white flannel suit,
and though there were several unoccupied seats at hand, chose to loll on
the grass, his long legs stretched out before him, his blue cap pushed
well back on his curly head. Nestled beside him sat Geraldine, a little
taller, a little older in appearance, but with the same grave, earnest
little face which had characterised her three years before. Perhaps the
member of the family who was the most changed, was the tall, young
fellow who sat beside Norah. Raymond had only lately returned from a
two years' sojourn in Germany, where he had acquired an extra four
inches, a pair of eye-glasses, and such "a man of the world" manner,
that it had been a shock to his sisters to find that his teasing
propensities were as vigorous as when he had been a schoolboy. Faithful
Bob hovered near, ready to obey his leader's commands, and take part in
any mischief which might be at hand, but for the moment all other
interests gave way to the hearing of the letter from London.

Hilary handed the last cup to its owner, and opening the envelope, ran
her eye rapidly down the sheet. The next moment a loud "Oh!" of
amazement startled the hearers into eager curiosity.

"What is the matter?"

"Oh--oh! It can't be true--it can't! Lettice is engaged to be
married!"

"_Engaged_!" A moment's breathless silence was succeeded by a very
babel of questioning.

"Engaged?" "Who to?" "When?" "Where." "What does she say?" "Oh,
read it aloud. Let us hear every word she says!"

But Hilary folded up the sheet with an air of determination. "Not yet.
I'll read it by-and-by; but first you must guess. I'll give you fifty
guesses who it is..."

"The painter fellow who did her portrait!"

"That what-do-you-call-him man--the Polish nobleman who sent her the
verses!"

"The curate!"

"Sir Neville Bruce!"

"One of the men she met at Brighton!"

"Wrong! wrong! wrong! Guess again. Nearer home this time. Someone you
know!"

"Not Mr Rayner?"

"Oh, dear me, no! I should think not. He and Lettice never get on well
together. Someone else."

"Someone we know! But we know so few of her friends. Only Mr Neville,
and the Bewleys, and--_oh_! No, it can't--it can't possibly be--"

"What? what? Who--who? Never mind if you are wrong. Say whom you are
thinking of."

"It--_can't_ be Arthur Newcome!"

"Art