looking at her sedate
steward so wonderingly that he felt it necessary to make some
explanation.

"I regret to say that I have had a telegram from London, my lady--an
aged relative--very ill, and expressing a desire to see me."

"Hullo!" said Sydney to himself; "the old humbug smells a legacy."

"Pray go at once, Mr Trimmer."

"Oh, thank you, my lady. You always are so sympathetic in a case of
trouble."

"I hope so, Mr Trimmer. Can I do anything for her, or for you?"

"Oh, no, my lady. Your permission is all I want. I am in hopes that my
presence will be of some benefit to her. I am her favourite nephew."

"Then pray go at once. You will return to-night, of course?"

"Oh, yes, my lady; but I fear that I shall have to make it the last
train."

"Of course. Give Sir Hilton's man orders to meet you with the dogcart
at the station. I would say stop as long as is necessary with the poor
old invalid were it not that I wish you to be on the spot to watch over
the progress of Sir Hilton's Parliamentary affairs. Just now they are
vital."

"Exactly, my lady. Good-morning, my lady, and thank you for your
kindness."

Lady Lisle smiled and bowed, raising her hand in a queenly way, as if

to hold it out for her retainer to kiss, but contenting herself by
giving it a slight wave towards the door.

"Good-morning, Mr Sydney. A delicious morning, sir; a nice breeze."

"Oh, was it?" said the boy, rather surlily.

"Yes, sir; the trout were rising freely as I passed over the bridge in
the lower meadows."

"Humph!"

"I thought I would mention it, sir. I fancy the May-fly are up."

Sydney nodded, and the steward reached the door, but returned, taking
out his pocket-book, after placing the black bag upon a chair.

"I beg your ladyship's pardon, but I omitted to show your ladyship a
paragraph I cut out of this morning's county paper."

Lady Lisle took the scrap handed to her respectfully. "Thank you, Mr
Trimmer. Oh! Yes. Listen, Sydney, my dear. Listen. This will
interest you. Electioneering!" and she read aloud--

"`We understand that Mr Watcombe, the well-known London brewer--'" Her
ladyship stopped and frowned.

"Yes, auntie; I hear," cried the boy--"brewer--?"

"`Is making strenuous efforts to gain the seat for the Tilborough
division of the county. He is now in Paris, but upon his return he will
commence his campaign by delivering a series of addresses to the voters.
The first, we understan