"You are all coming to the Abbey House to live, you dear things," she said delightedly.
There was a loose-box, shut off by a five-foot wainscot partition, surmounted by a waved iron rail, at one end of the stable, and on approaching this enclosure Vixen was saluted with sundry grunts and snorting noises, which seemed curiously familiar.
At the sound of these she stopped short, turning red, and then pale, and looked intently at Rorie, who was standing close by, smiling at her.
"That is my Bluebeard chamber," he said gaily. "There's something too awful inside."
"What horse have you got there?" cried Vixen eagerly.
"A horse that I think will carry you nicely, when we hunt together."
"What horse? Have I ever seen him? Do I know him?"
The grunts and snortings were continued with a crescendo movement; an eager nose was rattling the latch of the door that shut off the loose-box.
"If you have a good memory for old friends, I think you will know this one," said Rorie, withdrawing a bolt.
A head pushed open the door, and in another moment Vixen's arms were round her old favourite's sleek neck, and the velvet nostrils were sniffing her hair and cheek, in most loving recognition.