toned down
by a little grey. He has the alert blue eyes that generally go with his
fair complexion, and his long limbs are never still for many minutes
together. His daughter's tranquillity seems to have come from her
mother; certainly it cannot be inherited from the restless Reginald
Adair.

The third person present at the breakfast-table--and, for the time
being, the only visitor in the house--is a young man of seven or
eight-and-twenty, tall, dark, and very spare, with a coal-black beard
trimmed to a point, earnest dark eyes, and a remarkably pleasant and
intelligent expression. He is not exactly handsome, but he has a face
that attracts one; it is the face of a man who has quick perceptions,
great kindliness of heart, and a refined and cultured mind. Nobody is
more popular in that county than young Sir Philip Ashley, although his
neighbors grumble sometimes at his absorption in scientific and
philanthropic objects, and think that it would be more creditable to
them if he went out with the hounds a little oftener or were a rather
better shot. For, being shortsighted, he was never particularly fond
either of sport or of games of skill, and his interest had always
centred on intellectual pursuits to a degree that amazed the more
countrified squires of the neighborhood.

The post-bag was brought in while breakfast was proceeding, and two or
three letters were laid before Lady Caroline, who, with a careless word
of apology, opened and read them in turn. She smiled as she put them
down and looked at her husband.

"This is a novel experience," she said. "For the first time in our
lives, Reginald, here is a formal complaint of our Margaret."

Sir Philip looked up somewhat eagerly, and Mr. Adair elevated his
eyebrows, stirred his coffee, and laughed aloud.

"Wonders will never cease," he said. "It is rather refreshing to hear
that our immaculate Margaret has done something naughty. What is it,
Caroline? Is she habitually late for breakfast? A touch of unpunctuality
is the only fault I ever heard of, and that, I believe, she inherits
from me."

"I should be sorry to think that she was immaculate," said Lady
Caroline, calmly, "it has such an uncomfortable sound. But Margaret is
generally, I must say, a very tractable child."

"Do you mean that her schoolmistress does not find her tractable?" said
Mr. Adair, with amusement. "What has she been doing?"

"Nothing very bad. Making friends with a governess-pupil, or somet