'Dear old gentleman! is he more reconciled to the losing you all?'

'Yes, he is so much pleased to keep Lance, and that Felix does not throw it all up. Indeed, if we could have given up Bexley it would have been a great difficulty, for Felix feels that he took the duties of a son upon him.'

'It does to a certain degree qualify one's regret,' said Wilmet. 'As John says, one would not take the responsibility of saying a word of remonstrance; he is no fanciful lad, but a man well used to practical questions; but I still am sorry he should so cripple himself by acting on scruples Papa never entertained.'

'We can hardly be sure of that,' said Cherry. 'That old letter to Mr. Staples looked as if he were doubtful. When I told Sister Constance—I could not help it, though Felix had not given me leave—she seemed quite overcome, and then she pointed out how right it had all come, for in the ordinary course of things most likely this restitution would not have been possible. If he had been brought up as an eldest son, and we had all had an expensive education like other people, not only should we all have grown into acquiescence in an unavoidable sort of abuse, but there would have been none of the power of independence that enables him to do this; and there would have been settlements and all manner of things to tie it up. Remember, too, that dear Papa was always thankful that he did not have the trial of unmixed prosperity.'

Those were the last words before there was a slackening of speed; Wilmet resumed the one Kit, Stella the other, Robina wielded the doves, and gathered the parcels, a tall fair head under a big black hat nodded and smiled welcome, and the little station seemed to flash with greeting, as in another moment the halt was made, Clement wrenched open the door, swung out Stella, holding fast by the basket, and set her down with a kiss, next putting forth a long tender pair of arms to lift Cherry down, and then receiving his nephew and holding him while Wilmet and Robina extracted the other impedimenta, and the other two-thirds of the party hurried up, amid touching of hats and services of porters, Bernard and Angela flying upon one another, and luggage pouring out of the van.

'I hope there's room,' said Clement, surveying the numbers. 'I brought everything on wheels that I could get beasts for.'

And making Kit over to his father's hand, he conveyed Cherry to a corner of the big barouche with post-horses, and then hurried back to pack in Wilmet and her boy. He would have put in Robina and Major Harewood, but they both cried out that this was the place for Squire himself. Clement and John dragged him from some selection of boxes in a recusant but passive state, and deposited him opposite to Geraldine, as she merrily called him 'to enjoy the novel sensation of riding in one's own coach.'

'Theodore!' he remonstrated; but Wilmet's eyes grew uneasy, and Clement said, 'Better let Lance and me take him. You'll have a noisy welcome, and he had better not have the first brunt. Here, Tedo, jump up by Lance; see my big horse! Ha! I see Angel and Bear have climbed to the box. Now then, Robin, in with you! Can you make room for Stella?'

So having packed the barouche, Clement sent it off with a dash, taking John and Will Harewood as well as his two brothers in that dog-cart that fitted him so oddly, while Sibby, Krishnu, the nurse and baby, and the luggage, were disposed of in a sort of break which would hold everything, and came soberly behind with a farm-horse.

It had been well done of the brothers to relieve Felix from the charge of keeping the peace between Theodore and Kit, and leave him free to enjoy the arrival with his sisters, and to be happy in having Wilmet with him, the sharer in all his earlier exertions, and the best able to enter into his recollections, though at first she failed to recognise the old landmarks he pointed out, and Cherry sat dreamily smiling, owning that she recollected nothing in particular, but all was lovely and delicious, and not like a strange place, but as if she belonged to it.