id Harry; "fellows at Harton used to think him a tremendous
swell. And those who did not know him were apt to take a prejudice
against him. `Lady Kavanagh' some called him, you remember. But we
must have a long talk, we three, for my time is short; I must go back
to-morrow. Kavanagh proposed a walk after lunch."

"Certainly, if you like. We generally walk over to Farnham on a fine
Sunday afternoon: where the bishop's palace is."

"I know. I have often heard of Farnham, and should like to see it,"
said Harry. And others coming in, the conversation became general.

Then lunch time arrived, and was on the table very punctually, though
Harry did not want anything. But with the majority, who had breakfasted
before eight, it was different. Kavanagh came in ready dressed for the
walk, and expressed impatience at Strachan being still in uniform.

"I have got to pay my company," explained Strachan; "but I shall do it
directly the dinners are over, and then it won't take me five minutes to
change." And he was as good as his word, for by a quarter to two he was
ready to start.

It was a fine afternoon and a pretty walk; round the end of the Long
Valley by Cocked Hat Wood, skirting the steeple-chase course; through
shady lanes to the wild furze-clad common land; up the sides of the hill
range, where the old Roman encampments can still be clearly traced.

"This one looks precious modern," said Harry, doubtfully.

"Oh, the engineers may have been digging about a bit. And this
certainly is a modern shelter trench. There are battles fought here,
you know, whenever the generals are too lazy to go as far as the Fox
Hills," said Strachan, irreverently.

"But look at the view. Over there to the left, where you see the queer-
shaped black wood, is Sir Walter Scott's novel--what's his name: the
first one and the least interesting; at least, I could never get through
it."

"Waverley," said Kavanagh. "Don't expose your ignorance and want of
taste, Strachan. You could not see the abbey if we went there, Forsyth,
or else I should have proposed it. But the grass is not cut yet, and
till it is no one may go to the ruins. That is Farnham Park below us.
Yonder is the Hog's Back."

A pretty road led them down to the park paling, which they skirted till
they came to a ladder stile, which they crossed into the park, close to
the solid old-world walls and towers of the bishop's castle.

"What splendid trees!" cried Harry, as