the house was clear Mr. Peevor took Yorke round the grounds, which he had not had an opportunity of doing before, and which he was very desirous to do the honours of in person, walking with a short shuffling step, a long staff in his hand, as if for an Alpine ascent. Everything outside the place was in keeping with the interior arrangements. The garden, although not a small one, was crowded with hothouses, added by the present proprietor; acres of glass were exhibited, miles of pipes, battalions of pumps and garden apparatus — everything, in fact, that art could do to pervert the working of nature and make fruits and flowers grow in the wrong season — with a perfect army of gardeners, mainly employed, it seemed, in getting in each other's way. It was not a good strawberry country, said Mr. Peevor; but they had strawberries that year in February, a good week earlier than anyhody else; and they had grapes on the table in January. Early strawberries were such a nice thing, observed Mr. Peevor, especially if anybody in the house should be unwell.
Of course there was a farm on the estate, with about twice as many hands as could possibly be employed, and a perfect museum of agricultural implements. Wonderfully economical these things were, said the owner, after you had worked off the first cost; and by growing your own oats you kept down stable expenses: he was not above saving money by careful farming. Then they visited the kennel, where numerous dogs were chained up; setters and retrievers which never were shot with, a coach-dog that did not run with the carriage, greyhounds unaccustomed to coursing, watch-dogs too lazy in such company to bark. "I am a bit of a dog-fancier," said Mr. Peevor, looking round the yard; "and all these are the best breed of their kind. I never spare expense to get the right sort, and I like to have plenty of them;" but he did not go up to any to pet them, and the poor beasts were evidently too little accustomed to notice or to liberty to show any excitement at the appearance of the visitors. The girls sometimes took one or two of them out for a walk, Mr. Peevor observed in reply to his guest's question — indeed, that pretty little spaniel in the corner belonged to Lucy; but he had felt obliged to make a rule that the dogs should not come into the house. Lucy was quite in a state about it at first, for it was a present from a friend of theirs, Mr. Hanckes; but dogs in a house knocked things about so; and besides, it was not safe where there were children, dogs were so uncertain in their tempers.
The stables were in keeping with the other appointments, and the stall accommodation much in excess of the owner's own wants, the only present tenant of the guests' range being Jumping Joseph, which Yorke had retained for further use; and the grooms seemed to be mainly employed in looking after the helpers.
On return to the house Mr. Peevor withdrew to his study, to write letters as he said, but as Yorke suspected, from a certain drowsiness of manner, to take an afternoon nap; and the latter found Mrs. Peevor in the blue drawing-room — the only occupant, Miss Peevor being still up-stairs — and the children engaged in one of their numerous meals in the nursery. No callers arrived to break the conversation which followed, the first he had had the opportunity of holding with the sister of his old friend. It was now more than twenty years since Mrs. Peevor had seen her brother, and more than ten since any correspondence passed between them; and as she was little more than a child when he went to India, her recollection of him was but a shadowy one, and her knowledge of his character and career of the vaguest. She knew that he had distinguished himself as a soldier; but in the absence of any specific acquaintance with the course of recent events in India, and holding but the most shadowy conceptions of the geography of that distant country, it would have been a hopeless task to attempt a detailed account of his life which would convey any distinct impression. With the sister it was evidently a pleasing duty to show attention to the friend of her brother, round whose memory there might rest a halo of affectionate sentiment; but when the conversation after a time turned to the surroundings of her present life, Mrs. Peevor's manner became much more animated. Silent, and perhaps shy, in general company, or when others would do the talking for her, he found that she had plenty to say on an occasion of this sort; and without any exhibition of curiosity on his part, Yorke was placed in possession of a considerable instalment of the family history, Mrs. Peevor being apparently only too pleased to meet with a listener, and at once perfectly confidential. Mr. Peevor, it appeared, had been married three times before; and in one of the numerous pictures on the walls of the blue drawing-room now pointed out, of an uninteresting-
