the cushioned seat, the warm air flying at his face, Felix
contemplated with delight his favorite countryside. Certainly this
garden of England was very lovely, its greenness, trees, and large,
pied, lazy cattle; its very emptiness of human beings even was pleasing.

Nearing Joyfields he noted the Mallorings' park and their long Georgian
house, carefully fronting south. There, too, was the pond of what
village there was, with the usual ducks on it; and three well-remembered
cottages in a row, neat and trim, of the old, thatched sort, but
evidently restored. Out of the door of one of them two young people had
just emerged, going in the same direction as the car. Felix passed them
and turned to look. Yes, it was they! He stopped the car. They were
walking, with eyes straight before them, frowning. And Felix thought:
'Nothing of Tod in either of them; regular Celts!'

The girl's vivid, open face, crisp, brown, untidy hair, cheeks brimful
of color, thick lips, eyes that looked up and out as a Skye terrier's
eyes look out of its shagginess--indeed, her whole figure struck Felix
as almost frighteningly vital; and she walked as if she despised the
ground she covered. The boy was even more arresting. What a strange,
pale-dark face, with its black, uncovered hair, its straight black
brows; what a proud, swan's-eyed, thin-lipped, straight-nosed young
devil, marching like a very Highlander; though still rather run-up,
from sheer youthfulness! They had come abreast of the car by now, and,
leaning out, he said:

"You don't remember me, I'm afraid!" The boy shook his head. Wonderful
eyes he had! But the girl put out her hand.

"Of course, Derek; it's Uncle Felix."

They both smiled now, the girl friendly, the boy rather drawn back into
himself. And feeling strangely small and ill at ease, Felix murmured:

"I'm going to see your father. Can I give you a lift home?"

The answer came as he expected:

"No, thanks." Then, as if to tone it down, the girl added:

"We've got something to do first. You'll find him in the orchard."

She had a ringing voice, full of warmth. Lifting his hat, Felix passed
on. They WERE a couple! Strange, attractive, almost frightening.
Kirsteen had brought his brother a formidable little brood.

Arriving at the cottage, he went up its mossy stones and through the
wicket gate. There was little change, indeed, since the days of Clara's
visit, save that the beehives had been moved farther out. Nor did an