tanding in a park of I should not like to say how many
acres, on the lower slopes of one of the grandest mountains in the Lake
country?

On the beautiful summer afternoon on which we first see it, it certainly
looks one of the fairest spots in creation. As we stand on the
doorstep, the valley opens out before us, stretching far to the south,
and revealing reaches of lake and river, broad waving meadows and
clustering villages, wild crags and pine-clad fells.

We, however, do not stand on the doorstep to admire the view, or even to
ask admission. We have the storyteller's latchkey and invisible cap.
Let us enter. As we stand in the great square hall, hung round in
baronial style with antlers, and furnished in all the luxury of modern
comfort, wondering through which of the dozen doors that open out of the
square it would be best worth our while to penetrate, a footman, bearing
a tray with afternoon tea, flits past us. Let us follow him, for
afternoon tea means that living creatures are at hand.

We find ourselves in a snug little boudoir, furnished and decorated with
feminine skill and taste, and commanding through the open French windows
a gorgeous view down the valley. Two ladies, one middle-aged, one
young, are sitting there as the footman enters. The elder, evidently
the mistress of the mansion, is reading a newspaper; the younger is
dividing her time between needlework and looking rather discontentedly
out of the window.

It is quite evident the two are not mother and child. There is not the
slightest trace of resemblance between the handsome aquiline face of the
elder, stylishly-dressed woman, and the rounder and more sensitive face
of her quietly-attired companion. Nor is there much in common between
the frank eyes and mock-demure mouth of the girl, and the half-
imperious, half-worried look of her senior.

"Tell Mr Rimbolt, Walker," says the mistress, as she puts down her
paper, and moves her chair up to the tea-table, "and Master Percy."

A handsome gentleman, just turning grey, with an intellectual and good-
humoured face, strolls into the room in response to Walker's summons.

"I was positively nearly asleep," he says; "the library gets more than
its share of the afternoon sun."

"It would be better for you, dear, if you took a drive or a walk,
instead of shutting yourself up with your old books."

The gentleman laughs pleasantly, and puts some sugar in his tea.

"You are not very respectful