a "boy of the world"—against a very low
table. He had a charming air of gracious
composure. The ladies agreed he was indeed a
darling.

"Now, mamma, tell about what we have
settled."

"Oh yes," said Mrs. Winter. "Poor Edward,
who really never did any thing in the matter, and
yet has been bitterly contrite ever since, and
has tried again and again to see his brother, is
to be here to-morrow. Do you see now?"

"Ah, yes," said the vicar's wife. "But still,
if he is in the same temper——"

"But Lucy has a plan."

"Leave it to me," said Lucy, pacing round
and round the room in delight. "I have my
plan, and it shall succeed. Hush!" She held
up her finger. Was it the gentlemen coming
in? Yes, their voices were in the hall. But
Lucy heard another sound. In country houses,
ears are as trained as the ears of Indian hunters,
and can hear a sound of wheels on gravel even
at the lodge gate.

Mrs. Winter started up. "It must be Howard,
dear!" The gentlemen came in, in delightful
spirits. Mr. Winter and his wife went out
into the hall.

CHAPTER III. THE SON.

THROUGH the open door, in the dark night
outside, a chaise was waiting. In a moment
those round the bright fire in the drawing-room
heard the sound of shuffling and pattering feet.
In a few minutes more the door was opened
gently, and Mrs. Winter's voice was heard.
"Will you come in here, Cousin Howard?"

A tall gentleman, with a sunburnt face and
large brown moustache, and the softest of blue
eyes, advanced through the doorway, and then
drew back irresolutely. He held "Howard's
son" by the hand, who was in a dark little
Scotch dress, and who looked round on all the
company with a pleasant smile of greeting.

"I am afraid," began Colonel Howard, " that
after our journey——"

But he was interrupted, for, with cheeks
glowing and eyes flashing, Lucy came from the
other end of the room straight to him, and said:

"How are you, Cousin Howard? I am
Lucy!"

He half started back, and seemed to shade
his eyes from the lamp. "You?" he said. "You?
Ah, yes. The picture! I am glad to see you,
dear," he said, taking her hand affectionately;
"and am delighted to hear about all this. But
I am ashamed coming in this way—a dusty way–
worn traveller."

Every one remarked what a sweet soft voice
he had, and a gentle address, while to ladies he
had a sort of reverential courtesy with a faint
bloom of "old fashion" on it, but which was
not the less welcome.

Mrs. Winter eagerly said these were only
neighbours, and these "neighbours" with
delicacy drew away, and sat in different parts of
the room. But the father's eye wandered over
to his son, who, having already introduced himself,
was the centre of a group of ladies. He
was sitting on one of the low chairs "nursing"
one of his little stockinged feet, and talking away
about their journey with great volubility. He
was telling them of his travels, and how he was
not in the least tired. He had very delicate
little features, a little nose, a pretty mouth, a
fair skin, and his father's soft eyes. "I was
not in the least sick in the packet," he said,
still nursing his little leg. "I never am—
neither I nor papa. There was a French child,
though. You should have seen him!" And
little Fred laughed and crowed over the
abasement of the hereditary enemies of his country.
"Party here to-night? Papa doesn't like parties,"
he went on, "nor do I. Do you play games
here? I can play."

They were charmed with him; he prattled on
with such composure. The captain had introduced
himself, not with that mock respect and
burlesque "humbugging" with which young
men "draw out" children, and whom they use
merely to show themselves off. This cruelty is
merely offensive, and is often felt by sensitive
childish minds, and often a wistful little face
turns anxiously to search the empty one that is
busy with this folly. "How d'ye do?" said the
boy, graciously. "I am very glad to have the
pleasure of knowing you. Would you tell me,
please," and he hesitated a little, "who the lady
is, over there, that you were talking with?"

The captain laughed. "Oh, that is the
prettiest, finest young lady in the world. At
least I think so."

"Not in the world," said the boy, shaking
his head gravely. "Because you have not seen
all the young ladies in the world. But still—
oh yes, she is very pretty."

"Then why are you so curious about all this,
Mr. Howard? I declare I am beginning to be
a little jealous."

"Ah," said the boy, quickly, "you are going
to marry her?"

"Yes, you have guessed it," said the captain;
"am I not a happy fellow?"

"Indeed I think so," said the boy, swinging
one leg, and in the same wistful sincere way.
"She is very nice—much nicer than the French
ladies."

Lucy came running over.

"Here she is herself," said the captain, gaily;
and then added, in a half whisper, "I won't tell
her what you said about her not being the
finest and prettiest young lady in the world."

"I didn't mean that," said the boy, colouring,
and stepping back with a little defiance; "you
know I would not say so."

Lucy was down on her knees, holding his
hands and looking into his face. "What is it
that you don't mean, dear?" she asked. "Tell
me—we are to be the greatest friends."

He shook Ids head. "No, no."

"What! You refuse me?"

"No; but you know," he said, hesitating,
and still swinging on one foot—"you know you
are to marry him, and there won't be time."