Lady Rea in a riding-habit, mounted on a horse,
like a long-draped pincushion, was too much. Tiny coloured. Aunt Matty
looked horrified. Trevor grew hot and bit his lip, caught Fin's eye,
and then that young lady, who had held her handkerchief to her mouth,
burst out laughing.

"Dear me!" exclaimed Lady Rea, good-humouredly. "What have I said
now?--something very stupid, I'm sure. But you must not mind me, Mr
Trevor, for I do make such foolish mistakes."

Miss Matilda took hold of the two sides of the light shawl thrown over
her angular shoulders, and gave it a sawing motion to work it higher up
towards her neck, a shuddering sensation, like that caused by a cold
current of air, having evidently attacked her spine.

"I think it was a foolish mistake, Fanny," she said, in a voice acid
enough to corrode any person's temper, "to doubt Sir Hampton's Judgment
with respect to the horses he would choose for his daughters' use."

Fin began to bristle on the instant; her bright eyes flashed, and the
laughing dimples fled as if in dismay, as she threw down her challenge
to her aunt.

"Why, aunt," said the girl, quickly, "one of the grooms said pa didn't
hardly know a horse's head from its tail."

"Oh, Fin, my dear!" cried mamma.

"Which of the grooms made use of that insolent remark?" cried Aunt
Matty. "If I have any influence with your papa, that man will be
discharged on the instant."

"I think it was Thomas, aunt, who makes so much fuss over Pepine," said
Fin, maliciously.

"I'm quite sure that Thomas is too respectable and well-conducted a
servant to say such a thing," said Aunt Matty. "It was my doing that
your papa engaged him; for he came with a letter of introduction from
the Reverend Caius Carney, who spoke very highly indeed of his honesty
and pious ways."

"Oh, aunty," cried Fin, "and he swears like a trooper!"

Aunt Matilda went into a semi-cataleptic state, so rigid did she grow;
and her hand, with which she was taking a little more dog by friction,
closed so sharply on the scruff of the little terrier's neck, that it
yelped aloud.

"You mustn't say so, my dear, if he does," said Lady Rea, rather sadly.

And to turn the conversation, Trevor asked her if she liked flowers.

"Oh yes, Mr Trevor," she exclaimed, beaming once more. "And you've got
some lovely gladioluses--li--oli," she added, correcting herself, and
glancing from one to the other like a tutored child, "in your grounds,
of a colou