"When she is pleased."

"She certainly has the womanly virtue
of wishing to please."

"It is a virtue in a woman to wish to
please those worth pleasing."

"I suppose some women think
everybody worth pleasing."

"Every man," corrected Mr. Stewart.
"And that is nearer vice than virtue, in
my eyes."

Daisy walked with him to the gate, and
there they found Myrrha, leaning against
the paling, engaged in easy and laughing
conversation with the groom. Mr. Stewart
gave an amused, and annoyed, glance at
Daisy.

The riders were so long absent that
Daisy grew anxious.

Myrrha had boasted that she could ride
anything, but Daisy had already known her
long enough not to pay much attention to
her statements. When, at last, she heard
the sound of horses' feet, she went
hurriedly to the gate.

"Mr. Stewart is afraid you will have
been alarmed, Aunt Daisy. I hope he is
wrong. We have had the most delicious
ride. Mr. Stewart is a darling to get me
such a delightful horse. I shall love him
for ever, as the children say!"

"Nothing has gone wrong then?"

"Not with us," Mr. Stewart, gazing into
the grave pale face, answered.

Myrrha was looking radiant, and, in a
certain way, as lovely as a creature could
look.

"I needn't ask if you are tired, Myrrha?"
Daisy said.

"Tired! No, Aunt Daisy." And as
Mr. Stewart lifted her to the ground she
looked more than half inclined to kiss him
in the exuberance of her spirits. "He says
he will stay for our tea instead of going
home to dinner, if you will let him, Aunt
Daisy. I'll run in and dress directly, for,
in spite of the lunch we had, I'm very
hungry."

Daisy stayed in the garden with Mr.
Stewart till Myrrha joined them.

"Tea is quite ready, and everything looks
so nice. And don't I look nice, too, Aunt
Daisy?" The question of the tongue was
for Aunt Daisy: the question of the eyes
for Mr. Stewart.

"Indeed you do, dear! But is it safe
for you, Myrrha, warm from your ride, to
come out-doors so lightly dressed? It is
not summer yet."

"But it is as warm as summer, Aunt
Daisy."

She was, openly and undisguisedly,
standing to be admired. The frankness of
her vanity gave it a kind of charm, making
it seem child-like and innocent. She
looked much more than pretty: a most
bright creature, and of a most delicate
brightness. She held a perfect rosebud
in her hand.

"Mr. Stewart," she said, "in grateful
recognition of the pleasures of the ride
past, and grateful anticipation of rides to
be, I forgive you the many hard raps on
the knuckles you've given me. I offer you
this," holding the rosebud to him, "as a
flag of truce."

"I will do your gift the highest honour
in my power, Miss Brown." He took it
from Myrrha—and gave it to Daisy.

In a moment the glee darkened out of
Myrrha's eyes, but only for a moment.
Exhilarated by her ride, she was in spirits
too high to let sullenness be possible.

While they were at tea Myrrha said:

"Aunt Daisy, in coming home we made
a round that brought us through some
grounds, belonging to a most charming old
red-brick manor-house. What's the mystery
about that house? Mr. Stewart wouldn't
tell me to whom it belonged, or answer any
of my questions."

"How could we tell the owner was not
in hearing, behind some of those great
beech-trunks? It would hardly have been
in good taste to speak disparagingly of a
man, while trespassing upon his property."

"Should you have had to speak
disparagingly of him?"

"If I'd spoken as I think."

"What house was it?" Daisy asked
Mr. Stewart.

"Redcombe."

"Oh!"

Myrrha, who was very quick, caught a
particular expression in the eyes of Daisy
and of Mr. Stewart, which made her sure
there was some mystery in the matter.
A suspicion of the truth flashed across her.
Surely, Mr. Stewart, whom she had called
a pedant, and accused of being a music-
master or a drawing-master, or both, could
not be master of that fine old place, owner
of those beautiful grounds! The suspicion
made her heart beat faster, but she took
good care to show nothing of it. She
began to cross-question him.

"Is the owner of Redcombe young or
old?"

"What you would call middle-aged, and
incline to think venerable."

"About what age?"