fast as those
ponies would be deemed the maddest of timekeepers.

They found Roderick standing at his gates, waiting for them. There was
a glorious fire in the amber and white drawing-room, a dainty tea table
drawn in front of the hearth, the easiest of chairs arranged on each
side of the table, an urn hissing, Rorie's favourite pointer stretched
upon the hearth, everything cosy and homelike. Briarwood was not such a
bad place after all, Vixen thought. She could have contrived to be
happy with Roderick even here; but of course the Abbey House was, in
her mind, a hundred times better, being just the one perfect home in
the world.

They all three sat round the fire, drinking tea, poured out by Vixen,
who played the mistress of the house sweetly. They talked of old times,
sometimes sadly, sometimes sportively, glancing swiftly from one old
memory to another. All Rorie's tiresome ways, all Vixen's mischievous
tricks, were remembered.

"I think I led you a life in those days, didn't I, Rorie?" asked Vixen,
leaving the teatray, and stealing softly behind her lover's chair to
lean over his shoulder caressingly, and pull his thick brown beard.
"There is nothing so delightful as to torment the person one loves best
in the world. Oh, Rorie, I mean to lead you a life by-and-by!"

"Dearest, the life you lead me must needs be sweet, for it will be
spent with you."

After tea they set out upon a round of inspection, and admired the new
morning-room that had been devised for Lady Mabel, in the very latest
style of Dutch Renaissance--walls the colour of muddy water, glorified
ginger-jars, ebonised chairs and tables, and willow-pattern plates all
round the cornice; curtains mud-colour, with a mediaeval design in
dirty yellow, or, in upholsterer's language, "old gold."

"I should like to show you the stables before it is quite dark," said
Rorie presently. "I made a few slight improvements there while the
builders were about."

"You know I have a weakness for stables," answered Vixen. "How many a
lecture I used to get from poor mamma about my unfortunate tastes. But
can there be anything in the world nicer than a good old-fashioned
stable, smelling of clover and newly-cut hay?"

"Stables are very nice indeed, and very useful, in their proper place,"
remarked Miss McCroke sententiously.

"But one ought not to bring the stables into the drawing-room," said
Vixen gravely. "Come, Rorie, let us see your latest improvements in
stabl