white-haired old lady long past seventy, with the bloom of youth on her
cheek, its vivacity in her step, and its sparkle in her eyes.

Hardly were the first greetings exchanged when the children opened the
ball of conversation by inquiring eagerly when tea would be ready.

"How can you be so greedy?" said their mother. "Why, you have only just
finished your dinner."

"We dined at half-past one, and it is nearly half-past three."

"Poor darlings!" cried Mrs. Mostyn, regarding them with the enraptured
gaze of the true child-lover; "their drive has made them hungry; and we
cannot have tea very well before half-past four, because some old women
from the village have come up to have tea, and the servants are busy
attending to them. But I can tell you what you could do, dears. You know
the way to the dairy; one of the maids is sure to be there; tell her to
give you some cream. You will like that, won't you? Yes, you can go out
by this door."

"And remember to--"

Lady Atherley's exhortation remained unfinished, her sons having darted
through the door-window like arrows from the bow.

"Since Miss Jones has been gone for her holiday the children are quite
unmanageable," she observed.

"Oh, it is such a good sign!" cried Mrs. Mostyn heartily; "it shows they
are so thoroughly well. Mr. Lyndsay, why have you chosen that