the high hedge, and the post-chaise dashed
past, the luggage behind, and the two young men lying back in it. The
gates of Fair Acres were in sight, and the carriage turned in with an
imposing flourish of the post-boy's whip.

"Look here, Joyce, that is a sign of the times. That poor foolish
popinjay of ours is only drifting on with the tide. He has brought
another young fellow, I daresay, as idle as himself, to eat my bread and
give himself airs. Well, I will put up with it for a week, and then
_both_ have notice to quit; nor do I desire to see either of them darken
my door again. Melville shall travel if he likes, but it shall be across
the water--to America, where, if a little of this nonsense is not
knocked out of him, my name is not Arthur Falconer."

With this outburst of masculine indignation the squire subsided, and
then quietly drove round to the stables, while the post-chaise was
being unloaded at the front door; and Melville was giving the post-boy
as large a "douceur"--or, as we should have it called in these days, a
"tip"--as befitted the imitator of the first gentleman in Europe.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IV.

THE LADY OF BARLEY WOOD.

There was a mixture of dignity and simplicity in the reception which
Mrs. Falconer gave her son's friend which did not fail to strike him.

"We sup at nine o'clock, sir," she said, "we dine at one, and take tea
at five. Thus it is to the first of these meals that I would bid you
welcome, as it is close upon eight o'clock now. Will you follow me to
your room?--which I hope you will find comfortable."

"I am sure I shall," said Mr. Arundel, warmly. "It is very good of you,
madam, to invite me to Fair Acres."

These few words had passed in the hall; and the tap of Piers' crutches
was heard approaching, while Nip and Pip came bustling about the
new-comers, their short tails vibrating as if they were screwed on with
a wire!

"This is our youngest child, sir--Piers," Mrs. Falconer said.

"Where is Joyce, mother?" Piers asked.

"Your sister is behind; our chaise passed her close to the gate."

"Why did not you come with her?" Piers asked, bluntly.

"Because I was not allowed to do so," Mr. Arundel said, good-temperedly.
"I can tell you what you will be glad to hear, that your sister did not
forget your sparrow-hawk."

Melville, who had after all been wrangling with the postboy about his
gratuity in a somewhat undignified manner, now came into the hall as hi