the grey house at Fenley. I have seen you on the roads riding a grey
cob with a white nose."

"Very probably. He is a great treasure. Are you interested in horses?
Perhaps you ride yourself!"

"I did once, but I don't now. We're _rejuiced_!" announced Maud,
rolling out the new word with an enjoyment at which the hearer had much
ado to retain his composure. "We used to keep five horses, and ride in
the Row, but horses cost too much now. Stables and grooms, and things
to eat, and, of course, they may die. We've got nothing now except the
car, and that saves money, for you can bring home the stores from the
station, and drive Dreda to school, and save the fares."

"Just so," said Mr Seton dryly. "Gars are most useful. Especially in
the country." Maud had taken possession of a chair at the opposite side
of the fireplace, and as he looked at her square, solemn face, he prayed
that it would not be long before Mrs Saxon and her elder daughter
returned. "Do you also go to school?"

"No," Maud pursed her lips with an injured air. "Dreda was going to a
finishing school in Paris this term, and I had a resident governess.
Then--we were `rejuiced,' and she had to go to a cheaper one at Horsham.
That was her _trial_. There are horrid girls there, and she's
misunderstood, and when she came home she was so quenched you wouldn't
know her, but after a day she was just as bad as ever. And our
governess went away, and Rowena teaches me, to save expenses. She hates
it, and so do I. She hasn't enough patience for training the young."

Guy Seton privately thought that quite a large stock of patience would
be required to train this particular specimen of the young. He was
embarrassed by the personal note of Maud's confessions, and cast about
in his mind for a means of changing the conversation. The elder sister!
Was she in the house? Could she be expected to appear?

"Is Miss Saxon at home? I should like to see her before I go."

Maud nodded solemnly.

"She's coming! She's changing her dress. She had on a flannel blouse,
and rushed upstairs to put on her best frock when she heard you were
here."

"You little wretch!" cried Guy Seton, mentally. The colour mounted to
his face in mingled anger against the offender, and sympathy for the
absent sister whose efforts on his behalf had been so ruthlessly
betrayed, but before he had time to reply in words a sudden sound from
behind attracted his attention, and he turned