many a time through the white gate, but never had he seen it adorned by
bunches of green bushy things which shook in the wind. He did not mind
the jumping shouting little figures on each side of it in the least, but
the "triumphant" arch was an insult to a horse who had lived many years
at the vicarage, and knew every stick and stone near it. He planted his
fore feet firmly on the ground, put his head down, and refused to stir.

"Come, my lad," said Andrew, "it's nowt to harm ye."

But Ruby would not be reasoned with, or coaxed, or forced with the whip.

It a little spoiled the triumph of the arrival, and Mr and Mrs
Hawthorne sat laughing in the carriage, while Andrew went through all
the forms of persuasion he knew. But at last Mrs Hawthorne had a good
thought.

"Never mind, Andrew," she said, "we will all get out here, and walk
through this beautiful arch. Then you can drive round the other way to
the stable with the luggage."

So after all it had not been made in vain, though to walk through it was
perhaps not quite so triumphant as driving would have been. It had,
however, some advantages. It was easier to tell all the news and to ask
all the questions as they walked up to the house together, than to shout
them out running by the side of the carriage.

"_I_ thought of the decorations," said Nancy as they entered the house,
"and we all helped to put them up."

"But," added David, "we shouldn't have been able to get them at all, if
Dr Budge hadn't helped us."

The decorations were very much admired, and Ambrose, who was nervously
impatient to show the museum, soon thought that more than enough
attention had been given to them. He grew quite vexed with Pennie and
Nancy as they pointed out fresh beauties.

"Let mother and father come upstairs now," he said impatiently.

And at last they were on their way.

"What can you have to show us at the very top of the house?" asked their
father as he climbed the last flight of steep stairs.

Ambrose and David had run on before, and now stood one on each side of
the entrance, their whole figures big with importance, and too excited
even to smile. Ambrose had prepared a speech, but he could not remember
it all.

"We are glad to welcome you to the new museum at Easney," he said to his
mother, "and, and--"

"And we hope," added David, "that you will declare it open, and allow it
to be called the _Mary Hawthorne Museum_."

It was a moment which had been loo