mad
English, afforded me much delight and remains with me still.

It took us four days to reach Folkestone, and we stayed there a couple
of nights before we went on to London. Dr. and Mrs. Grey remained with
us until we reached the St. Pancras hotel, where the Cynic was waiting
to receive us. The squire will see a good deal of the Greys, as the
doctor is a Manchester man and can easily run over. The Cynic took to
them at once, and Mrs. Grey, or "Dot" as I have learned to call her,
confided to me that my friend was a very nice fellow of whom she would
be desperately afraid. Fancy any woman being afraid of the Cynic!

Mr. Derwent is, in his way, quite as good an organiser as the doctor,
though he goes about his work so quietly that you hardly realise it.
Instead of our having to change at Airlee he had arranged for a saloon
to be attached to the Scotch express, so that we travelled with the
utmost possible comfort. The squire was by this time so accustomed to
travelling, and had borne the fatigue of the journey so well, that I
should not have hesitated to accompany him alone, but it was very
pleasant to have the Cynic's company and to feel that he shared the
responsibility. He seemed pleased to see me, I thought, and
congratulated me warmly on the success of my mission.

"You must thank Dr. Grey for all this," I said; "it was his persistence
that brought Mr. Evans home."

"Nay, child," said the squire, "you and your word pictures sent me
home."

Webster met us at Fawkshill with the pair of bays, and his eyes shone
as he greeted the squire. It was good to observe the sympathy that
exists between the two as they grasped hands at the station gate. One
was master and the other servant, but they were just old friends
reunited, and neither of them was ashamed of his emotion.

When we entered the lane the squire closed his eyes. "I will play at
being a boy again, Grace. Tell me when we reach the brow of the hill,
so that I may see it all at once."

I knew what he meant, and none of the three spoke a word until Webster
pulled up his horses at my request. It was nearly five o'clock in the
afternoon, and the warm August sun was well on his way to the west. A
thin haze hung over the distant hills, but the moors were glorious in
brown and purple, and there was here and there the glint of gorse.

"Now, sir," I said, "look and rejoice!"

He stood up in the carriage and looked around; and as he looked he
filled h