I suppose it's easy enough to slip over by rail
from Commonstone."

"Oh dear, yes," replied Jim; "but hang it, that's an idea! We'll do
ever so much better than that, we'll organize a big ride-and-drive
party there; as many of us as can will ride, and the remainder must
travel on wheels. We will have every available horse out of the
stables to-morrow, go over to Trotbury, lunch at "The Sweet Waters," do
the cathedral and place generally in the afternoon, and get back in
time for dinner. It'll make a capital day,--suit everybody down to the
ground."

"That would be very charming, and it is extremely good of you to
suggest it; but, my dear Bloxam, I didn't quite mean that. Lady Mary
has very likely made other arrangements, and of course I don't want to
interfere with those. I can slip over by myself----"

"Oh, fiddle-de-dee!" interposed Jim. "My mother will be only too glad
to hear that we have hit off our day's diversion."

"Yes," observed Mr. Cottrell, in a meditative manner; "I have known
Lady Mary for many years, and that is her great charm as a hostess.
She is always anxious that her guests should amuse themselves after
their own fashion. Too many of our entertainers, alas! will insist
upon it we shall amuse ourselves in theirs."

Jim Bloxam looked sharply at the speaker as he lit his bed-room candle.
Jim had a shrewd idea that Mr. Cottrell at times laughed a little at
his friends as well as with them.

"Cottrell is right, however," he said. "It's time to go to bed. After
dancing all last night and running races this afternoon, Beauchamp,
like myself, feels no doubt fit for it."

When Mr. Cottrell reached his bed-room, he took two or three turns up
and down the floor in a somewhat preoccupied manner. At length a faint
smile played about his mouth, and muttering to himself, "I will!" he
seated himself at the writing-table, rapidly penned a short note,
addressed it, and then sought his pillow in the tranquil frame of mind
that befits a man who has planned a pleasant surprise for his
fellow-creatures. When his valet brought him his cup of tea the next
morning at nine, Mr. Cottrell briefly informed him that there was a
note on the table for the rectory.

"If you don't know where it is, Smithson," he continued, "inquire
quietly. Take it at once; there is no answer; and no tattling about
where you have been, mind."

Smithson vanished silently, though aggrieved. He did feel that the
latter injuncti