made a fertile wilderness of flowers and foliage. There was a terrace
in front of the drawing-room windows, and from this a flight of
crumbling moss-grown stone steps led down to the garden, which was on
the slope of the hill, and lay considerably below the level of the
house.

While Vixen was perambulating the garden, a bell rang in a cupola on
the roof; and as this sounded like the summons to a meal, she felt that
politeness, if not appetite, demanded her return to the house.

"Three o'clock," she said, looking at her watch. "What a late hour for
luncheon!"

She made her way back to the small side-door at which she had entered
with Captain Winstanley, and went into the parlour, where she found the
Captain and his aunt. The table was laid, but they had not seated
themselves.

"I hope I have not kept you waiting," Vixen said apologetically.

"My aunt has been waiting five minutes or so; but I'm sure she will
forgive you, as you don't yet know the ways of the house," replied the
Captain amiably.

"We have early habits at Les Tourelles, Miss Tempest," said the lady of
the manor: "we breakfast at half-past seven and dine at three; that
arrangement gives me a long morning for study. At six we drink tea,
and, if you care for supper, it can be served for you on a tray at
half-past nine. The house is shut, and all lamps put out, at ten."

"As regularly as on board ship," said the Captain. "I know the customs
of the manor of old."

"You have never favoured me with a long visit, Conrad," remarked Miss
Skipwith reproachfully.

"My life has been too busy for making long visits anywhere, my dear
aunt."

They took their places at the small square table, and Miss Skipwith
said grace. Antony Doddery was in attendance, clad in rusty black, and
looking as like a butler as a man who cleaned windows, scrubbed floors,
and hewed wood could be fairly expected to look. He removed the cover
of a modest dish of fish with a grand air, and performed all the
services of the table with as much dignity as if he had never been
anything less than a butler. He poured out a glass of ale for the
Captain and a glass of water for his mistress. Miss Skipwith seemed
relieved when Violet said she preferred water to ale, and did not
particularly care about wine.

"I used to drink wine at home very often, just because it was put in my
glass, but I like water quite as well," said Vixen.

After the fish there came a small joint of lamb, and a cou