me up and have tea with you in
your fairy dell, George?" he demanded suddenly. "What do you think of
this fellow, Mrs Macalister, finding a veritable little heaven below,
and keeping it to himself all this time? There's an easy ascent by the
head of the glen for those who object to the steeper climb; there's
shade, and water and everything that the most exacting person could want
for an ideal picnic. To be in the country on a day like this, and not
to go for a picnic seems to me a deliberate waste of opportunity, What
about this afternoon, eh? That will suit you as well as any other time,
I presume?"

To say that the Editor appeared surprised by this sudden threatening of
his solitude, would be to state the case too mildly. He looked
absolutely stunned with astonishment, and his predicament was all the
more enhanced by the fact that already murmurs of assent and
anticipation welcomed the idea from his neighbours to right and to left.
He stared incredulously into his brother's face, wrinkled his brow, and
stammered out a laboured excuse.

"I'm afraid I-- The dell is in no sense my property--No doubt it would
make a capital site for a picnic, but I--I have no right to pose as
host!"

"Rubbish, my boy! You are not going to get out of it so easily as that.
We expect you to act as master of the ceremonies, and show us the
beauties you have kept to yourself so long. Yes, and to catch some
trout for us, too! What do you say to that, Mrs Macalister? How does
freshly grilled trout strike you as an accessory to a picnic? We'll
have two fires, with the kettle on one, and the gridiron on the other,
and Mrs McNab will send up a hamper of good things to complete the
feast. We'll leave George to manage that, as he knows how to get round
her; only do the thing well when you are about it; that's all I have to
say! We shall bring rattling big appetites, shan't we, Miss Vane?"

Margot's glance passed by his to dwell with remorseful commiseration on
the Editor's perturbed face. This was her own doing; a direct
consequence of her appeal of the day before! The expression of the
brown eyes was wonderfully eloquent, and meeting them the Editor
bestirred himself to smile back a grateful recognition. By this time,
however, the murmur had grown into definite speech; Mrs Macalister was
stating at length her life's experience as to picnics, and laying down
the law as to what was necessary for their success; the clergyman and
his