or starts to her feet, and rashes forward.

"Father! Mother!"

There they stand. Mrs. Grebby in a black satin grown, a long gold
chain suspended round her neck, a Paisley shawl crossed over her chest,
and a close bonnet of quilted blue satin.

Mr. Grebby, with a sparse frill of grey hair growing right round his
face, his chin and long upper lip guiltless of hirsute appendages. A
gorgeous suit of a very baggy cut, flowered satin waistcoat, and a
basket of apples and cooking pears in his hand, as a present to his
daughter.

At his heels a shaggy dog, blind in one eye and toothless--one that in
its puppyhood had leaped and played with Eleanor in the green fields of
Copthorne Farm.

A cry of delight breaks from her, as she hugs her parents in turn, and
catches sight of her old favourite.

"Rover--my darling!" she exclaims, sinking on her knees to fondle the
dog.

He springs up with his muddy feet on the shoulders of her beautiful
heliotrope dress. His claws catch in the lace, but she heeds them not,
only laughs gleefully as he licks her face.

"We couldn't help bringing him," says Mr. Grebby, wiping his brow with
a red handkerchief, which is shining and damp from excitement. "Poor
follow, he _did_ want to come! Black Bess will miss him, won't she?"

"We took it into our heads sudden like to visit London and surprise
you, dearie," Mrs. Grebby vouchsafes.

"How lovely of you!" cries Eleanor, in her joy forgetting the guests by
the fire, then she turns and faces them.

Giddy feels as if cold water is coursing down her back, the palms of
her hands are icy cold. The feathers in her friend's hat seem dancing
up and down before her eyes.

Lady MacDonald is positively glaring through her tortoiseshell glasses.

There is an air of offended dignity in her mien, as she looks the
couple up and down freezingly.

"This is my father and mother," says Eleanor, an elated smile upon her
lips, a merry sparkle in her eyes. What do these people matter, now
that her parents have come to her new home? She longs to show them
everything, and watch their wonder.

"Mr. and Mrs. Grebby, Lady MacDonald, Mrs. Mounteagle," she continues.
"Now, Ma dear, you sit here," pulling up a chair between Giddy and Lady
MacDonald. "Loosen your shawl, or you'll scorch, and I will give you
some tea."

Mrs. Grebby gazes in awestruck wonder at the grandly dressed visitors,
and her daughter's elaborate clothes.

Mr. Grebby stumps round th