w came forward with the Colonel's greatcoat in his hand; and the
drawing-room door was shut.

Suddenly a peal of laughter was heard, long, loud, and irresistible.
Then another voice joined in--the merriment seemed uncontrollable. The
Sutherland family looked at each other in angry astonishment. Could it
be the new footman indulging in this unseemly mirth? Impossible!

Sir Alexander opened the door into the hall; we followed him with one
accord. What a sight met our eyes! There stood Colonel Witherington,
with his hand on Peter's shoulder, the pair of them shaking with
laughter.

"Go back, my dears," said Sir Alexander, with a wave of his hand towards
us. With the true instinct of the British pater-familias, he was eager
to send his women-kind away from anything unusual or improper; but
Mysie's curiosity was too great--besides, Colonel Witherington was now
dragging the footman forward.

[Illustration: "'COME AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF, YOU RASCAL.'"]

"Come and explain yourself, you rascal. Why, Mysie"--the name slipped
out unawares--"don't you see who it is? It's your cousin Fred."

An explosion of dynamite would have less upset the worthy baronet than
this announcement. He stood speechless and staring; Lady Sutherland
looked annoyed and incredulous. As for me, I cannot describe my
feelings; I was in a perfect whirl. Mysie was the first to recover from
her astonishment. She joined in the laughter of the two men.

"How like you, Fred, to do a thing like that! Do come and tell us all
about it. I thought you were at the Cape. Still, that loud guffaw
sounded familiar. But how different you look without your moustache--and
your hair, too! Well, I should never have known you!"

"The want of a moustache made me recognise him," said Colonel
Witherington. "He was just such a beardless boy when he joined the
regiment. I noticed the likeness at dinner; and when I got a chance of
looking into his eyes I was sure----"

"I call it most ungentlemanlike--most unpardonable," began Sir
Alexander, who had now recovered his speech.

"I did it for a lark," said the supposed footman, in a hearty, cheerful
voice. "I wondered what you really thought of the good-for-nothing
nephew, and how you would receive him if he returned like the prodigal
son in the parable."

"It was hardly fair on us, Fred," said Lady Sutherland's gentle voice.

"Perhaps not, dear Aunt Margaret; but _you_ would never be found
wanting." Mysie stepped back a few pa