e fields to see a little boy who upset the
kettle. Burnt, you know! Mother dresses it. If you will sit down and
wait a few minutes, I'll run and bring her back."

Mr Seton smiled, a delightful twinkly smile.

"Oh, please don't hurry her. I should be so sorry. You mustn't trouble
about me. I can call another day."

But this was not at all what Dreda desired, and her voice took a tone of
keen personal entreaty as she replied:

"Oh, please don't go away! Mother can finish the dressing and be back
in ten minutes from now, and I've ordered tea, and my sister will give
it to you while you wait. We have so few callers, and it's such a dull,
wet day. Do _please_ stay and have tea!"

At that the smile gave place to a laugh. Mr Seton found it altogether
delightful to be welcomed in so appreciative a fashion, and told himself
that it was a treat, indeed, to meet a girl so natural and unaffected.
He made no further demur, but when Dreda left the room sat down in a
comfortable chair and stretched his long legs towards the fire, smiling
to himself with obvious enjoyment of his recollections. It was indeed a
grey wintry afternoon, and he was by no means averse to sitting by this
cheery fire, looking forward to tea and further conversation with "Miss
Golden-locks."

And the sister who was to entertain him meantime--that must be Miss
Saxon, the grown-up daughter of whom he had heard, though he did not
know her by sight. He did not care for grown-up girls as a rule, they
were too self-conscious and self-engrossed--schoolgirls were far more
fun. Then the door creaked once more, and he started to his feet to
behold a square, stolid form advancing towards him, and to receive a
pompous greeting from Maud, who had waited only until Dreda was safely
out of the house, and had then hurried into the drawing-room determined
to enjoy "her turn" before Rowena arrived.

"How do you do? My mother will soon be here. My sister has gone to
fetch her. I hope you are quite well."

"Perfectly so, thank you. I hope you are the same. To whom have I the
pleasure of speaking?" inquired Mr Seton, with a sudden change of
demeanour which said much for his powers of adaptability. With Dreda he
had been all candour and friendliness; confronted with Maud he became at
once a solemn model of decorum.

"I am Maud--Maud Saxon. We are all named to match, because we are
Saxons by name as well as appearance. You are the Mr Seton who lives
in