s friends there instead of wandering among unused dining-rooms. It
had windows at each end with old-fashioned folding sashes; and the view
on one side was to a great hill shoulder, fir-clad and deep in heather,
and on the other to the glen below and the shining links of the Avelin.
It was panelled in dark oak, and the furniture was a strange medley.
The deep arm-chairs by the fire and the many pipes savoured of the
smoking-room; the guns, rods, polo sticks, whips, which were stacked or
hung everywhere, and the heads of deer on the walls, gave it an
atmosphere of sport. The pictures were few but good--two water-colours,
a small Raeburn above the fireplace, and half a dozen fine etchings. In
a corner were many old school and college groups--the Eton Ramblers, the
O.U.A.C., some dining clubs, and one of Lewis on horseback in racing
costume, looking deeply miserable. Low bookcases of black oak ran round
the walls, and the shelves were crammed with books piled on one another,
many in white vellum bindings, which showed pleasantly against the dark
wood. Flowers were everywhere-common garden flowers of old-fashioned
kinds, for the owner hated exotics, and in a shallow silver bowl in the
midst of the snowy table-cloth was a great mass of purple heather-bells.

Three very hungry young men sat down to their morning meal with a hearty
goodwill. The host began to rummage among his correspondence, and
finally extracted an unstamped note, which he opened. His face
brightened as he read, and he laid it down with a broad smile and helped
himself to fish.

"Are you people very particular what you do to-day?" he asked.

Arthur said, No. George explained that he was in the hands of his
beneficent friend.

"Because my Aunt Egeria down at Glenavelin has got up some sort of a
picnic on the moors, and she wants us to meet her at the sheepfolds
about twelve."

"Oh," said George meditatively. "Excellent! I shall be charmed." But
he looked significantly at Arthur, who returned the glance.

"Who are at Glenavelin?" asked that simple young man with an air of
innocence.

"There's a man called Stocks, whom you probably know."

Arthur nodded.

"And there's Bertha Afflint and her sister."

It was George's turn to nod approvingly. The sharp-witted Miss Afflint
was a great ally of his.

"And there's a Miss Wishart--Alice Wishart," said Lewis, without a word
of comment. "And with my Aunt Egeria that will be all."

The pair got the cue, and