ine. In the west wing, indeed,
the windows were still shuttered, and many of them overgrown with ivy;
but the dingy thickets of laurel and yew were everywhere shorn away; and
to the east all the windows stood free and open. Moreover, two men were
at work in the front garden, clearing the flagged paths, traced in the
eighteenth century, from encumbrance, and laying down turf in a green
circle round one of the small classical fountains that stood on either
side of the approach.

"What on earth is the old villain up to now?" was the natural comment of
the surprised Tatham.

Was it simply the advent of a guest--an invalid guest--that had wrought
such changes?

One of the gardeners, seeing him as he approached the gate, came running
up to hold his horse. Tatham, who knew everybody and prided himself on
it, recognized him as the son of an old Duddon keeper.

"Well, Backhouse, you're making a fine clearance here!"

"Aye! It's took us days, your lordship. But we're about through wi' this
side, howivver." He pointed to the east wing.

"One can see now what a jolly old place it is," said Tatham, pausing in
the gateway to survey the scene.

Backhouse grinned responsively.

"I do believe, my lord, Muster Melrose hissel' is pleased. He stood a
lang while lookin' at it this morning, afore he started oot."

"Well, no one can deny it's an improvement!" laughed Tatham, as he walked
toward the house.

Dixon had already opened the door. Slave and factotum of Melrose as he
was, he shared the common liking of the neighbourhood for young Lord
Tatham. Two of his brothers were farmers on the Duddon estate; and one
of them owed his recovery from a dangerous and obscure illness to the
fact that, at the critical moment, Tatham had brought over a specialist
from Leeds to see him, paying all expenses. These things--and others
besides--were reflected in the rather tremulous smile with which Dixon
received the visitor.

"Mr. Faversham expects me?"

"Aye, aye, my lord." The old man quickly led the way through the front
hall, more quickly than Tatham's curiosity liked. He had time to notice,
however, the domed and decorated ceiling, the classical mantelpiece, with
its medallions and its pillars of Sienese marble, a couple of bold
Renaissance cabinets on either side, and a central table, resting on
carved sphinxes, such as one might find in the _sala_ of a Venetian
palace.

But as they turned into the corridor or gallery Tatham's exclam