nd flung out her hands
in unconscious illustration. "But there are many very necessary
changes that--that Peter will like to see," said Lady Mary, glancing
almost defiantly at the pursed-up mouths and lowered eyelids of the
sisters.

Peter walked suddenly into the middle of the banqueting-hall and
looked round him.

"Why, what's come to the old place? It's--it's changed somehow. What
have you been doing to it?" he demanded.

"Don't you--don't you like it, Peter?" faltered Lady Mary. "The roof
was not safe, you know, and had to be mended, and--and when it was
all done up, the furniture and curtains looked so dirty and ugly and
inappropriate. I sent them away and brought down some of the beautiful
old things that belonged to your great-grandmother, and made the hall
brighter and more livable."

Peter examined the new aspect of his domain with lowering brow.

"I don't like it at all," he announced, finally. "I hate changes."

The sisters breathed again. "So like his father!"

Their allegiance to Sir Timothy had been transferred to his heir.

"Your guardian approved," said Lady Mary.

She turned proudly away, but she could not keep the pain altogether
out of her voice. Neither would she stoop to solicit Peter's approval
before her rejoicing opponents.

"Mr. John Crewys is a very great connoisseur," said the canon. He
taxed his memory for corroborative evidence, and brought out the
result with honest pride. "I believe, curiously enough, that he spends
most of his spare time at the British Museum."

Lady Mary's lip quivered with laughter in the midst of her very real
distress and mortification.

But the argument appeared to the canon a most suitable one, and he was
further encouraged by Peter's reception of it.

"If my guardian approves, I suppose it's all right," said the young
man, with an effort. "My father left all that sort of thing in his
hands, I understand, and he knew what he was doing. I say, where's
that great vase of wax flowers that used to stand on the centre table
under a glass shade?"

"Darling," said Lady Mary, "it jarred so with the whole scheme of
decoration."

"I am taking care of that in my room, Peter," said Miss Crewys.

"And the stuffed birds, and the weasels, and the ferrets that I was so
fond of when I was a little chap. You don't mean to say you've done
away with those too?" cried Peter, wrathfully.

"They--they are in the gun-room," said Lady Mary. "It seemed such
a--such--an