s
father and Joyce appeared from a door under the wide staircase.

"Well," said the squire, "you seem holding a counsel here; I hope it is
peace, not war. Come, Melville, show your friend to his room."

Considering how greatly the squire had been annoyed by his son's driving
out in the post-chaise, he spoke kindly and pleasantly; but Melville was
already assuming his grand airs.

"Here, Arundel," he said, "I will take you to your room: first door on
the left, I suppose?"

"You will allow me to do as I have done all my life, Melville," said his
mother. "I always go with my guests to their chambers, to see they are
comfortable. Now, Mr. A_run_del."

To Melville's horror, his mother put the accent on the second syllable.
And as she tripped away--for her figure was still light and supple--he
whispered: "He won't know who she means. Tell her, pray, not to say
A_run_del."

Joyce was indignant about the proceedings of the whole day, and she
said:

"If you think it becoming to correct your mother, do it yourself." Then,
going up to her father, she put her hand through his arm. "Come and see
the last brood of chickens with me and Piers. They are lovely, dear
dad."

Melville turned away with a satirical smile on his lips, thinking it was
impossible to do anything with Joyce: she was content to let things
remain as they were.

Meantime his friend was conducted to the "best room" Mrs. Falconer had
to offer--a spacious square room, with a large four-post bed, hung with
white dimity, and so high that a pair of steps by which to climb into it
did not seem out of place.

The window was rather small for the size of the room, and the frames
thick, but roses and honeysuckle hung their wreaths round it and
perfumed the air.

Mrs. Falconer showed Mr. Arundel the high chest of drawers, and pointed
to a hanging-closet, one of the top panels of which was glass, so that
it might have a dim light from the room.

"I hope you will be comfortable," she said; "the sheets are well aired,
and so were the mattresses and beds, by the fire. I never trust to
servants, but see to those things myself. We sup at nine o'clock; and if
you want anything please pull the bell."

"You are very kind," Mr. Arundel said. "I hope my visit is not
inconvenient."

"Oh, no; the boys are coming home from school to-morrow. Three boys make
some difference in a house; but I dare say you will be out a great deal
with my son Melville." A scarcely perceptible