on when
the snow was two feet thick; and if the cows often kicked the buckets
over.

"It's not us," said Hester, "it's Kink who was so useful."

"Who is Kink?" Mrs. Mordan asked.

"Our gardener," said Hester, "but he drives the caravan for us;" and
gradually she told the whole Slowcoach story.

By this time they were at Ashton, and, after giving instructions about
looking after the ponies,--sending for a veterinary surgeon and so
forth,--Mrs. Mordan showed Kink the way to Aunt May's house, which they
reached just before two.

Aunt May was standing by the gate? with five black spaniels about her,
looking anxiously down the road--a tall lady with grey hair and
top-boots, and a little whip in her hand.

"No," she said, as Kink stopped at the gate, "I don't want any chairs
or kettles mended, or, indeed, anything from you at all."

Kink, however, said nothing, but went to the back of the caravan and
helped Mrs. Mordan and Patricia down.

"My precious Lina!" exclaimed Aunt May, when she saw them. "Whatever
has happened?"

"I'll tell you about it indoors," said Mrs. Mordan. "These kind people
are going to stop here for lunch, if you've got enough."

"Of course there's enough," said Aunt May; "but I thought you were
gipsies, or tinkers, or something objectionable. You're not a tinker,
are you?" she said to Gregory.

"No," he said, "but I'd like to be a gypsy."

And so they reached the house, which was an old-fashioned one, all
among dark trees, with a very soft lawn in front of it.

Aunt May told Kink to go round to the back and be sure not to let
Diogenes and the dogs fight, and then she began to call at the top of
her voice for Simpkins.

After a while Simpkins appeared--an elderly bald man in a dress suit,
who was evidently the butler.

"Simpkins," said Aunt May, "there will be two more to lunch, and
there's a caravan at the back belonging to this gentleman
here,"--indicating Gregory, who immediately grew three inches all
over,--"and please give the driver a good dinner."

"Yes, my lady," said Simpkins; and Hester and Gregory at once began to
look at her with round eyes, for they had never before met anyone who
was titled--I mean to speak to, although they had seen the Lord Mayor
(who is of course a baronet) in his carriage only last November 9.

"And, Simpkins," said Aunt May, "take Mr. What is your name?" she asked
Gregory.

"Gregory Bruce Avory," said he.

"Take Mr. Bruce Avory to the Pink Room,