"The sun is sinking," observed Lord Canning, "but all we know of it here in the woods is this soft, golden haze. This is the most beautiful time to drive. The others may be hungry, but I think we have arranged it very well, to suit ourselves. How still the woods are at sundown! Look at their deep, rich green in the golden light! Do you hear that musical murmur? It's one of those tiny brooks—we have just passed it. You are to show me one to-morrow near the camp. What time before breakfast? Eight? Half-past seven? Say seven. Now do not be late."
As the light gradually faded, they felt a touch of frost in the air. Its exhilarating effect was heightened by the rapid speed the ponies had taken on the homeward road.
"Grandma Chazy wants me to take the new road back. It's a short-cut," whispered Indiana.
"I don't like short-cuts," murmured Lord Canning, crossly.
"Indiana, you're not—well, what do you think of that girl, Lord Stafford?" As Indiana took the forbidden road, both she and Lord Canning laughing with intense enjoyment. "Just like naughty children, aren't they, Lord Stafford?"
"Ha, ha, ha, ha! yes, Mrs. Bunker," laughed Lord Stafford, edified beyond description at hearing his serious nephew, with a scientific bent, classed in the category of naughty children.
"I hope cook won't mind," ventured Mrs. Stillwater, with a worried expression.
"Ten to one she will, Mary. But don't get worried over that yet. You can have an hour's peace of mind before she gives you notice."
"It's so hard to get another up here, or I wouldn't care," added Mrs. Stillwater, apologetically. "You see I should have to telegraph Mr. Stillwater—and he would have all the bother of getting us one, putting her on the train, you see—and then, Lord Stafford, she mightn't suit."
"Quite so, Mrs. Stillwater."