y so long, with the noise and laughter of
young people.

She would ask Peter about the horses to-morrow. John had purposely
refrained from filling the stables which had been so carefully
restored and fitted. There were very few horses. Only the cob for
the dog-cart, and a pair for the carriage, so old that the coachman
declared it was tempting Providence to sit behind them. They were
calculated to have attained their twentieth year, and were driven at a
slow jog-trot for a couple of hours every day, except Sundays, in the
barouche. James Coachman informed Lady Belstone and Miss Crewys that
either steed was liable to drop down dead at any moment, and that they
could not expect the best of horses to last for ever; but the old
ladies would neither shorten nor abandon their afternoon drive, nor
consent to the purchase of a new pair. They continued to behave as
though horses were immortal.

Sir Timothy's old black mare was turned out to graze, partly from
sentiment, and partly because she, too, was unfitted for any practical
purposes; and Peter had outgrown his pony before he went away, though
he had ridden it to hounds many times, unknown to his father. Lady
Mary thought it would be a pleasure to see her boy well mounted and
the stables filled. John had said that the loss of his arm would
certainly not prevent Peter from riding. She found herself constantly
referring to John, even in her plans for Peter's amusement.

Strong, calm, patient John--who was prepared to wait; and who would
not, as he said, snatch happiness at the expense of other people's
feelings. How wise he had been to agree that, for the present, she
must devote herself only to Peter! She and Peter would be all in all
to each other as Peter himself had suggested, and as she had once
dreamed her son would be to his mother; though, of course, it was not
to be expected that a boy could understand everything, like John.

She must make great allowances; she must be patient of his inherited
prejudices; above all, she must make him happy.

Afterwards, perhaps, when Peter had learned to do without her--as he
would learn too surely in the course of nature--she would be free
to turn to John, and put her hand in his, and let him lead her
whithersoever he would.

Peter saw his guardian off at Brawnton, dutifully standing at
attention on the platform until the train had departed, instead of
starting home as John suggested.

When he came out of the station he stoo