of Sir Thomas Lundie, deceased. In other
words, the step-mother of Blanche, and the enviable person who had taken
the house and lands of Windygates.

"My dear," said Lady Lundie, "words have their meanings--even on a young
lady's lips. Do you call Croquet, 'business?'"

"You don't call it pleasure, surely?" said a gravely ironical voice in
the back-ground of the summer-house.

The ranks of the visitors parted before the last speaker, and disclosed
to view, in the midst of that modern assembly, a gentleman of the bygone
time.

The manner of this gentleman was distinguished by a pliant grace and
courtesy unknown to the present generation. The attire of this gentleman
was composed of a many-folded white cravat, a close-buttoned blue
dress-coat, and nankeen trousers with gaiters to match, ridiculous
to the present generation. The talk of this gentleman ran in an
easy flow--revealing an independent habit of mind, and exhibiting a
carefully-polished capacity for satirical retort--dreaded and disliked
by the present generation. Personally, he was little and wiry and
slim--with a bright white head, and sparkling black eyes, and a wry
twist of humor curling sharply at the corners of his lips. At his lower
extremities, he exhibited the deformity which is popularly known as "a
club-foot." But he carried his lameness, as he carried his years, gayly.
He was socially celebrated for his ivory cane, with a snuff-box artfully
let into the knob at the top--and he was socially dreaded for a hatred
of modern institutions, which expressed itself in season and out of
season, and which always showed the same, fatal knack of hitting smartly
on the weakest place. Such was Sir Patrick Lundie; brother of the late
baronet, Sir Thomas; and inheritor, at Sir Thomas's death, of the title
and estates.

Miss Blanche--taking no notice of her step-mother's reproof, or of her
uncle's commentary on it--pointed to a table on which croquet mallets
and balls were laid ready, and recalled the attention of the company to
the matter in hand.

"I head one side, ladies and gentlemen," she resumed. "And Lady Lundie
heads the other. We choose our players turn and turn about. Mamma has
the advantage of me in years. So mamma chooses first."

With a look at her step-daughter--which, being interpreted, meant, "I
would send you back to the nursery, miss, if I could!"--Lady Lundie
turned and ran her eye over her guests. She had evidently made up her
mind, before