Mrs. Goldring glanced more approvingly at the doctor than she generally did. He was right, this divining little woman was not "canny." "Is my wife not here?" asked the doctor, glancing round. "She will be presently," answered the hostess. "I happened to send her some quail Harry shot last night, and as I saw her driving townwards I know she went to share them with Noel Stenhouse, and to see how he is. No wonder he gets down with fever living among those horrid natives and slaving for the good of their souls as he does! You must have come from your hospital by the back way or you would have met her. Ah, there she is! You'll be happy now, doctor!" Mrs. Samptor went forward to meet a sweet-faced lady who was crossing the lawn. The doctor followed, and husband and wife exchanged greetings which showed that they were still lovers after years of marriage. The sorrow which had visited them on the death of their two little children had only served to draw them closer to each other. The little group still lingered in the vicinity of the tea-table, the literal-minded Jane having brought her father back to partake of the notable cakes. Presently Mrs. Samptor, with a pleased exclamation, sprang from her wicker chair. "Ah, here he is--the Collector has actually kept his promise for once! But who has he got with him? Oh, of course, the new Assistant! Dear me, what a handsome young man!" she murmured, and everybody glanced with interest at the pair who came up the avenue, deep in talk. Mr. Felix Worsley, though such a familiar figure in the station, was seldom seen to such advantage as at this moment. "If he would oftener look like that what a blessing it would be," muttered Dr. Campbell, whose sharp eyes noted that the usually sombre face was lit up by a certain cheerful alertness; there seemed to be a new light in the dark, penetrating glance often half veiled by folds of heavy eyelids. "What a handsome, personable man the Collector might be if he always held himself like that," further soliloquised the doctor, as he glanced at the well-proportioned figure and beautifully shaped head showing a thick grizzly thatch as he bared it in response to Mrs. Samptor's greeting. "Oh, Alan, he does look nice," whispered Mrs. Campbell; whereupon the doctor asked with a smile: "Which? I'm so taken up with the Collector's wakened-up appearance, I've no eyes for the new-comer yet. Yes, but he does look a fine, straight young fellow," he added, glancing at Mark Cheveril with approving eyes. Presently introductions were effected all round, and Mark found himself under the peepul tree drinking tea and looking with keen interest at the new faces which would soon become familiar to him.