Hat in hand, the head gardener had hastened down to meet them, and under his tutelage they explored his domain. His master murmured little words of congratulation.
"I have done my best, your lordship," the man observed, "but Mr. Merridrew has been cruel hard on me for bulbs and seeds and plants, and as to shrubs and young trees, he'll not have a word to say."
The Marquis nodded sympathetically.
"We may be able to alter that next year, Hales," he promised. "Mr. Merridrew, I know, has had great trouble with the tenants for the last few quarters. Next year, Mr. Hales, we will see what we can do."
The gardener once more doffed his cap and received the intelligence with gratified interest. Over the top of the hill, a small governess' cart, drawn by a fat pony, came into sight, and Letitia waved her hand to the girl who was driving.
"It's Sylvia Laycey," she murmured. "Now how on earth can that child still be at Broomleys, if Mr. Thain is really here?"
Sylvia explained the matter as she drove into the great stableyard, Letitia walking on one side of her and the Marquis on the other.
"Of course we've left Broomleys," she told them, "but we are staying with the Medlingcourts for three or four days. They asked us at the last moment. And then your letter came, Letitia—just in time. I'm simply crazy to come and stay with you. Letitia, you lucky girl! You are going to be here all the time! I am simply foolish about him!"
"About whom?" Letitia asked indifferently.
"Why, Mr. David Thain, of course! He's the nicest thing I've ever talked to. He lunched with us on Thursday—but of course you're in love with him, too, so there'll be no chance for me."