“Fair dames, are they not?” asked Rowton, stopping under a celebrated Gainsborough as he spoke. “Ah! now I know whom you reminded me of when you wore that Gainsborough hat in Paris; you have got just the face of that Dame Rowton; just that graceful turn of the neck. We will copy that picture for your next ball dress; you will look, as the old saying is, as if you had stepped out of the canvas.” They both laughed and discussed the picture a little longer; then they walked on to the extreme end of the gallery. “This way now,” said Rowton, turning abruptly to his left. “Why so?” she asked. “Why not go through this door? See! you must have overlooked it; there is a door here, and it will take us out into another wing of the house.” “Not now,” said Rowton. “There is nothing of interest in that wing; come into the old ball-room; it has been disused for some time, but we will restore it. Look”—he flung open a door as he spoke—“look at this carved oak; it covers the room from floor to ceiling, from ceiling to floor again. This oak is hundreds of years old and of enormous value. Will you believe me when I tell you that once such a Goth lived in the old place that he painted the oak white? It took a whole year to get that paint off; my grandfather had that done. The oak looks nearly as well as ever now. Observe the delicacy of the carving. We will furnish this ball-room again. What say you, Nancy, shall we give a ball as your house warming, after the neighbours have called on you.” “The neighbours!” she said in some alarm; “are people coming to call on me?” “My dear, darling little goose,” was the reply, “do you think you are going to live here in solitude? This is Saturday, to-morrow will be Sunday. You and I and Murray appear in church together—a picturesque group; we sit in the old family pew. On Monday the callers begin to arrive. We shall be invited out a good bit, and then we will give a ball in this room and you shall be dressed as Gainsborough’s Dame Rowton.” Nancy laughed; Rowton continued to talk further about this idea; and they strolled out into the grounds. It was a lovely winter’s day towards the end of January. The pair walked quickly, exploring the different gardens and pleasure grounds. Suddenly they came straight up to a high wall which ran parallel with the house. “What is in there?” asked Nancy. “Another garden,” said Rowton in a careless tone. “What a heap of gardens,” she exclaimed with a laugh. “I am almost tired of exploring them.” “We will return to the house now,” he said; “we need not go any further to-day.” “Oh, yes, let me see the inside of this garden. What a high wall, and broken glass all along the top! I cannot get even a peep within. I am curious. Is it a very old-fashioned garden, Adrian?” “Yes,” he said after a pause; “we call it the Queen Anne garden here.” “How charming! Are the trees cut about in queer shapes?”