that stood in
the stable."

He held the tumbler up against the lamp. But it was quite empty.

"Uncommon glad she didn't though, poor lady, all the same," he added,
parenthetically, as he set it down on the table again. "What do you
say, Maria--about time we toddled off to bed?"

CHAPTER V

IN WHICH DICKIE IS INTRODUCED TO A LITTLE DANCER WITH BLUSH-ROSES IN
HER HAT

"Her ladyship's inquired for you more than once, sir." This from Winter
meeting the pony-carriage and the returning prodigal at the bottom of
the steps.

The sun was low. Across the square lawn--whereon the Clown had found
death some thirteen years before--peacocks led home their hens and
chicks to roost within the two sexagonal, pepper-pot summer-houses that
fill in the angles of the red-walled enclosure. The pea-fowl stepped
mincingly, high-shouldered, their heads carried low, their long necks
undulating with a self-conscious grace. Dickie's imagination was aglow
like that rose-red sunset sky. The virile sentiment of all just heard
and seen, and the exultation of admitted ownership were upon him. He
felt older, stronger, more secure of himself than ever before. He
proposed to go straight to his mother and confess. In his present mood
he entertained no fear but that she would understand.

"Is Lady Calmady alone?" he asked.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cathcart are with her, Sir Richard." Winter leant down,
loosening the rug. His usual, undemonstrative speech took on a
loftiness of tone. "Mrs. William Ormiston and her daughter have driven
over with Mrs. Cathcart."--The butler was not without remembrance of
that dinner on the day following Dickie's birth. Socially he had never
considered Lady Calmady's sister-in-law quite up to the Brockhurst
level.

Richard leaned back, watching the mincing peacocks. It was so fair here
out of doors. The scent of the may hung in the air. The flame of the
sunset bathed the facade of the stately house. No doubt it would be
interesting to see new people, new relations; but he really cared to
see no one just now, except his mother. From her he wanted to receive
absolution, so that, his conscience relieved of the burden of his
disobedience, he might revel to the full in the thought of the
inheritance upon which--so it seemed to him--he had to-day entered.
Still, in his present humour, Dickie's sense of _noblesse oblige_ was
strong.

"I suppose I've got to go in and help entertain everybody," he
remarked.

"Her ladyshi