"
announced Maud calmly. "A man's called, and Mason said mother was in,
and she's out, and he's in the drawing-room, and it's rude to send him
away. I came to tell you."

"A _man_! What man?"

"The Seton man. The young one with the nose."

The two elder girls exchanged quick, eloquent glances.

"Are you _sure_ mother is out? She was in half an hour ago."

"She's out now. She went across the fields to bandage the hand of the
baby that the kettle scalded in the white cottage in the dip. You'll
have to see him instead."

Rowena turned a face of despairing resignation upon her sister.

"In this blouse! A flannel blouse. Oh, Dreda--the contrast. Think of
the silver tissue!"

Dreda looked, and her face was eloquent. Truth to tell, the flannel
blouse, though neat and tidy, as were all Rowena's garments, could by no
manner of means be called becoming. It did seem tragic to appear to an
interesting stranger under such disadvantageous circumstances.

"You must change it!" she cried hastily. "Put on your blue dress; you
look ripping in that. I'll go in for a minute, and tell him to stay
while I run for mother; by that time you'll be ready, and can talk till
she gets back. I'll tell Mason to get tea. Fly! You are so quick, you
can be ready in five minutes."

Rowena flew, and Dreda smoothed her hair with her hands and prepared to
leave the room in her wake, but Maud's square figure blocked the way,
and Maud's voice demanded instantly:

"And what shall _I_ do?"

"You? Nothing! It's not your affair. Go up to the nursery and keep
quiet."

Maud gurgled with indignation. Not her business, indeed! She who had
been first on the scene, and had carried the message! Dreda was
hateful! Simply hateful! After pretending to be so good, too.
"Nursery, indeed! _I'll_ show her!" growled Maud eloquently.

Guy Seton was standing before the fire as the door opened in
Etheldreda's impetuous hand, and the man and the girl stared at each
other in mutual admiration and approval. "Fair hair, clean shaven,
twinkly eyes, big shoulders, Norfolk suit, gaiters. I do _love_ men in
country clothes," decided Dreda in a mental flash. "Halloa! whom have
we here? A schoolgirl daughter. What a pretty, bright-looking girl!"
thought the young man almost as quickly. Then they shook hands and
Dreda plunged into explanations.

"How do you do? It's so stupid. Mother's out! The maid didn't know,
but she has gone across th