g refused Trevor's offer to let them stay, though living on
his bounty to the end.

In writing, it needs but a stroke of the pen to carry the reader now to
a year ago or the reverse; so let us say that a year has elapsed, and
there is once more a dinner-party at Penreife, where there are visitors
staying. It is to meet them that Sir Hampton and Lady Rea are coming
from Tolcarne. One of the visitors is with her sister beneath one of
the shady trees on the lawn; and the other, a little solemn-looking man,
her husband, has been making a tour of the place with Richard Trevor.

They stopped at the pretty keeper's lodge, with its little farm, to
drink new milk, tempered from a flask, offered in glasses by pretty Mrs
Humphrey Lloyd, who looked wonderfully important with the new baby.
Then they visited the stables, where an old friend was enjoying a pipe
after seeing to the comforts of the horses; for Sam Jenkles, when poor
Ratty was obstinate for the last time, and insisted upon dying of old
age in the road instead of at peace in the stables, gladly accepted the
offer made to him to take the superintendence of the little stud at
Penreife; while his wife lived in one of the prettiest cottages on the
estate, and was always busy at the house during company times.

Sam's news when he came down was that Mrs Fiddison had changed her
name, having been proposed to by a widower who fancied she was one of
the bereaved; also that one Barney had got into some little difficulty
with the police, and had gone abroad for change of air.

On returning to the house for dressing, the ladies were already
prepared, and the gentlemen had only time to hurry on their things
before there was a loud "Er-rum" in the hall, and Sir Hampton Rea was
ready to button-hole his sons-in-law, telling the Cornish one that the
new greenhouse was a great success, and that Sanders should come over
the next day to see the wistaria.

As for Lady Rea, she was being heartily kissed, every kiss budding into
a smile on her pleasant face, till Tiny made the discovery that the
plump, affectionate little dame was coming undone, when she had her
whisked away and pinned, volubly telling her daughter the while that
Pepine was so ill, Aunt Matty had not the heart to come.

At eleven precisely the last "Er-rum" is heard in the hall, and peace--
truly a blessed peace--falls on the pleasant Cornish home.

Three months after we have the return visit, Richard Trevor and
Valent