eipts for your rents, paid
in full and up to date."

"Mr. Lyndsay is an excellent landlord," said Lady Atherley; "and they
tell me the new church and the schools he has built are charming."

"Very mischievous things both," said Atherley. "Ta-ta."

That afternoon, Atherley being still absent, and Lady Atherley having
gone forth to pay a round of calls, the little boys undertook my
entertainment. They were in rather a sober mood for them, having just
forfeited four weeks' pocket-money towards expenses incurred by Tip in
the dairy, where they had foolishly allowed him to enter; so they
accepted very good-humouredly my objections to wading in the river or
climbing trees, and took me instead for a walk to Beggar's Stile. We
climbed up the steep carriage-drive to the lodge, passed through the big
iron gates, turned sharply to the left, and went down the road which the
park palings border and the elms behind them shade, past the little
copse beyond the park, till we came to a tumble-down gate with a stile
beside it in the hedgerow; and this was Beggar's Stile. It was just on
the brow of the little hill which sloped gradually downward to the
village beneath, and commanded a wide view of the broad shallow valley
and of the rising ground beyond.

I was glad to sit down on the step of the stile.

"Are you tired already, Mr. Lyndsay?" inquired Harold incredulously.

"Yes, a little."

"I s'pose you are tired because you always have to pull your leg after
you," said Denis, turning upon me two large topaz-coloured eyes. "Does
it hurt you, Mr. Lyndsay?"

"Mother told you not to talk about Mr. Lyndsay's leg," observed Harold
sharply.

"No, she didn't; she said I was not to talk about the funny way he
walked. She said--"

"Well, never mind, little man," I interrupted. "Is that Weald down
there?"

"Yes," cried Denis, maintaining his balance on the topmost bar but one
of the gate with enviable ease. "All these cottages and houses belong to
Weald, and it is all daddy's on this side of the river down to where you
see the white railings a long way down near the poplars, and that is the
road we go to tea with Aunt Eleanour; and do you see a little blue
speck on the hill over there? You could see if you had a telescope.
Daddy showed me once; but you must shut your eye. That is Quarley
Beacon, where Aunt Cissy lives."

"No, she does not, stupid," cried Harold, now suspended, head downwards,
by one foot, from the topmost rail of t