"I think it will interest my nephew to have a look at your stud," continued the squire; "he's lived mostly in towns, and knows nothing of farming, I dare say, but horses interest nearly all men." "To be sure," answered Mr. Churchill. "But won't you come in, gentlemen, and rest awhile first, and have a glass of claret, or a taste of our home-brew or cider?" The squire accepted the farmer's offer, and said he would have a glass of the home-brewed ale, as he knew it of old. He therefore walked on toward the house, accompanied by Mr. Churchill; and May Churchill, still carrying her kitten, followed the two, with John Temple by her side. "I was quite glad when my uncle proposed to come here to-day, Miss Churchill," he said; "I wanted to see your pretty home." "You are very welcome," answered the Mayflower, with such a charming grace of manner that John Temple could not help wondering where she could possibly have acquired it. "You must show me your fernery," he continued; "and," he added hastily, for they were now nearing the house, "will you come one day to Fern Dene, and let me try to find some rare ones for you? Will you come to-day--this afternoon?" May blushed to her pretty white brow. "This afternoon?" she repeated with hesitation. "Yes, why not? It is fine; promise to come?" "Very well," said May, and as she spoke her father turned round and addressed her. "May, my dear," he said, "give me the cellar keys." "At three o'clock," remarked John Temple in a low tone, but May had heard the words. She hurriedly entered the flower-festooned porch of the house, which opened into a long low hall with windows on either side of the door, which also were filled with flowers. The whole place, indeed, had an air of comfort and refinement, and the dining-room into which Mr. Churchill ushered the squire and John Temple was not only substantially but handsomely furnished. A rich turkey carpet lay on the polished oak floor, and the sideboard and mantel-piece were of carved oak. John Temple looked around with astonishment. He had pictured a tenant-farmer's house to be so very different. For, from the silver flagon in which a neat hand-maiden bore the home-brewed ale, to the fair young daughter, everything at Woodside was of the very best.