t out together, amid all the
bustle of breaking up, to pay their promised visit. Jock, who up to this
moment had hated London, and looked with alarm upon society, had eagerly
accepted his tutor's proposal that after the ten days which they were to
spend at the Hall they should go to Normandy together for the rest of
the holidays, which was an arrangement very pleasant in anticipation.
But by this time neither of the two was at all anxious to carry it out.
Mr. Derwentwater had begun to talk of the expediency of giving a little
attention to one's own country. "We are just as foolish as the ignorant
masses," he said, "though we think ourselves so wise. Why not Devonshire
instead of Normandy? it is finer in natural scenery. Why not London
instead of Paris? there is no spell in mere going, as the ignorant say
'abroad.'" When you come to think of it, in just the same proportion as
one is superior to the common round of gaping British tourists, by going
on a walking tour in Normandy, one is superior to the walkers in
Normandy by choosing Devonshire.

These remarks were preliminary to the intention of giving up the plan
altogether, and by the time they set out it was tacitly understood that
this was to be the case. It was to be given up--not for Devonshire. The
pair of friends had become two--they were to do each what was good in
his own eyes. Jock would remain "at home," whether that home meant the
Hall or Park Lane, and Mr. Derwentwater, after his week's visit, should
go on--where seemed to him good.

There was a considerable party gathered in the inner drawing-room when
Jock and his companion presented themselves there. The scene was very
different from that to which Jock had been accustomed, when the
tea-table was a sort of fireside adjunct to the warmth and brightness
centred there. Now the windows were full of a clear yellow sky, shining
a little shrilly after rain, and promising in its too-clear and watery
brightness more rain to come; and many people were about, some standing
up against the light, some lounging in the comfortable chairs, some
talking together in groups, some hanging about Lucy and her tea service.
Lucy said, "Oh, is it you, Jock?" and kissed him, with a look of
pleasure; but she had not run out to meet him as of old. Lucy, indeed,
was changed, perhaps more evidently changed than any member of the
family. She was far more self-possessed than she had ever been before.
She did not now turn to her husband