in down on Abbotstoke."

A far more talkative journey than usual ensued; the discussion of the
paintings and antiques was almost equally delightful to the father and
son, and lasted till, about a mile from Stoneborough, they descried
three figures in the twilight.

"Ha! How are you, Wilmot? So you braved the rain, Ethel. Jump in,"
called the doctor, as Norman drew up.

"I shall crowd you--I shall hurt your arm, papa; thank you."

"No, you won't--jump in--there's room for three thread-papers in one
gig. Why, Wilmot, your brother has a very jewel of a squire! How did you
fare?"

"Very well on the whole," was Mr. Wllmot's answer, while Ethel scrambled
in, and tried to make herself small, an art in which she was not very
successful; and Norman gave an exclamation of horrified warning, as she
was about to step into the flower-basket; then she nearly tumbled out
again in dismay, and was relieved to find herself safely wedged in,
without having done any harm, while her father called out to Mr. Wilmot,
as they started, "I say! You are coming back to tea with us."

That cheerful tone, and the kindness to herself, were a refreshment and
revival to Ethel, who was still sobered and shocked by her yesterday's
adventure, and by the sense of her father's sorrowful displeasure.
Expecting further to be scolded for getting in so awkwardly, she did not
venture to volunteer anything, and even when he kindly said, "I hope
you were prosperous in your expedition," she only made answer, in a very
grave voice, "Yes, papa, we have taken a very nice tidy room."

"What do you pay for it?"

"Fourpence for each time."

"Well, here's for you," said Dr. May. "It is only two guineas to-day;
that banker at the Grange beguiled us of our time, but you had better
close the bargain for him, Ethel--he will be a revenue for you, for this
winter at least."

"Oh, thank you, papa," was all Ethel could say; overpowered by his
kindness, and more repressed by what she felt so unmerited, than she
would have been by coldness, she said few words, and preferred listening
to Norman, who began to describe their adventures at the Grange.

All her eagerness revived, however, as she sprang out of the carriage,
full of tidings for Margaret; and it was almost a race between her and
Norman to get upstairs, and unfold their separate budgets.

Margaret's lamp had just been lighted, when they made their entrance,
Norman holding the flowers on high.

"Oh, how beaut