and then the young lady passed on to greet the rest of
the party.

Lady Mary, sad to say, received this statement with the utmost
incredulity, and mentally arraigned her own offspring of duplicity; but
whether Jim or Blanche was the traitor she could not determine. Could
she but have peeped over Sylla Chipchase's shoulder as that
laughter-loving damsel read Pansey Cottrell's note, she would have been
both enlightened and astonished.

"DEAR MISS SYLLA," it ran, "I cannot recollect the name of the French
song that you told me would just suit Mrs. Wriothesley. Please send it
me. We are all going over to-morrow to lunch at Trotbury; some on
horseback, and some upon wheels. You should join the riding party if
you can, as it will be doubtless pleasant; and though I am not
empowered to say so, Lady Mary will of course be delighted to see you."

"Song!" muttered Miss Sylla, as she read this note, "I never said
anything to him about a French song; but, ah--stop--I think I see it
now!" and she ran through the note again, and as she finished it, broke
into a merry laugh. "What a dear, clever, mischievous old man he is!"
she muttered. "Of course he means that I am to join that riding party
and make Lady Mary a little uncomfortable. Well, she really does
deserve it. How dare she pretend that I am setting my cap at Lionel?
Such a designing matron deserves some slight punishment, and she little
knows what Mr. Cottrell and I can do when we combine together to avenge
ourselves."

When she descended to the breakfast-room, Sylla found no difficulty in
persuading her cousin Laura to go for a ride. It was of course easy to
suggest Trotbury. Then it was agreed they might as well look in at the
Grange on the way, to see if they could persuade any of the party there
to join them in such an expedition; and thus Sylla Chipchase
successfully carried out Mr. Cottrell's design, without making mention
to any one of the note that she had received from him.

The merry party were soon started. The Misses Evesham, Mrs. Sartoris,
and Pansey Cottrell in the carriage--the reduced number of those
electing to travel on wheels sparing the latter the indignity of the
"break"--the remainder were of course upon horseback; and as Lady Mary
looked after them, admiring the firm seat of her daughter sitting
squarely and well back in her saddle, she wondered whether the "Suffolk
chit," as she persistently termed her, could ride.

"That's a very