"The house is not doing much at present. They are still pottering at the foundations, which seem to take a frightful lot of doing to. Not that they have had time to make much progress since you were there--it is not much over a fortnight yet, you know. Oh, but it has been a long fortnight! Rachel, now I have got you, I don't mean to lose sight of you again." "How did you leave Beatrice?" inquired Rachel, hastily. "Beatrice is quite well--as sprightly as ever. I told her I meant to bring you back to town, by force of arms if necessary, and she said I was quite right. We can't do without you in Melbourne--I can't, anyhow; and what's more, I don't mean to try." "How is Uncle Hardy?" "Uncle Hardy? I'm sure I don't know--I was very nearly saying I don't care. Of course he is quite well; he always is, I believe. Is there anybody else you are particularly anxious about, Mademoiselle?" "Yes," said Rachel, smiling and blushing; "I am anxious about Black Agnes. How is my dear Black Agnes? _Does_ William attend to her properly?" "I don't leave her to William," said Mr. Kingston. "I have taken her away to my own stables. And there she is eating her head off--wanting you, like the rest of us. If you have no more questions to ask, I'll begin; may I? I have some _really_ important inquiries to make." Rachel gasped. But to her immense relief Lucilla was heard approaching, talking at an unnecessarily high pitch of voice to her mother, who responded with equal vigour; and the two ladies entered, followed by Mr. Thornley, all wearing a more or less deprecatory aspect. The men and the matrons grouped themselves round the fire, and plunged into an animated discussion of the latest Melbourne news. Rachel poured out the tea, and insisted on carrying it round to everybody, regardless of polite protests; which charmed her lover very much. He was rather cold, and a little stiff and tired after his unwonted exertion; his seat was soft and restful; and he liked to see the slender creature gliding about, with her sweet face and her deft hands, and picture to himself with what meek dutifulness she would serve her lord and master when the time came. Rachel hoped they were in for a pleasant gossip till dinner time, but she was much mistaken. "I must go and see after my baby, Mr. Kingston, if you will excuse me," said Lucilla at the end of half-an-hour, setting down her empty but still smoking teacup, and rising with an air that implied a pressing duty postponed to the very last moment. Mr. Kingston expressed an ardent desire to make the baby's acquaintance, which flattered the young mother greatly, but otherwise led to nothing. Lucilla went out, promising to introduce her son under favourable auspices in the morning; and as she disappeared, Mrs. Hardy jumped up and followed her with apparently anxious haste. "Oh, Lucilla, I _quite_ forgot that aconite for Dolly's cold!" she exclaimed; "shall I come and look for it now?"