After a word of greeting to Mortimer Shelton, she drew back into her room; while the men, laughing and chatting, passed into the great hall, where they found Lord Barminster awaiting them. His stern face softened into a welcome, as, with outstretched hand, he came forward to greet his guests. "Ah, Shelton!" he said, "so you keep my boy company, and you, Paxhorn and Standon. Gentlemen, you are welcome--though there's no need to remind you of that, I know. Adrien," turning to his son, "you have a fine day, did you drive or ride?" "We motored down, sir," answered the young man, in his soft, melodious voice. His father frowned slightly. He heartily detested all modern innovations, and would never hold that motors--or, indeed, any increased facilities for travelling--were improvements. "They breed discontent, sir," he would declaim vigorously. "In my young days people were content to stay in the place in which they had been born, and do their duty. Now, forsooth, they must see this country and that, and visit a dozen places in the year, where their grandparents visited one. Anything for an excuse to fritter away their hard-earned savings!" On this occasion, however, he made no comment, but turned to Mortimer Shelton. "You'll find the roads here better suited for horses than for oil-cans," he said grimly. "We are primitive, as you know." Shelton laughed; but he knew his host's ideas on this subject, and was apt to respect them. "So much the better, sir," he said in a cheerful tone; "I am a bit tired of the smell of petrol myself. Give me Nature without a corset." "You'll certainly get that here," Lord Barminster replied, favouring his young guest with an approving glance. Shortly afterwards, they made their way to the morning-room. Here, luncheon had been laid, and Lord Barminster, Miss Penelope, with Lady Constance, were awaiting them. The little party sat down to table, each one secretly only too ready for the meal; for the ride through the fresh, country air had been a fairly long one. "I was really hungry, Constance," Adrien said, with his low, careless laugh. "There must be magic in the air of Barminster." "Yet still you come here so seldom," returned his cousin gently. "Business and the cares of State," quoted Adrien, with a smile. "But I might retaliate. Why do we not see you up in town? Society misses one of its brightest stars." Lady Constance toyed idly with the grapes on her plate; then she looked up. "Society has many brighter lights than I, Adrien," she said quietly. "But now, tell me about the race--auntie is terribly anxious over it; are you not, dear?" "Yes, my love," returned Miss Penelope, who, in reality, hardly knew one horse from another. "Oh, Adrien always wins," put in Lord Standon. "That's a foregone conclusion. Have you seen the 'King' lately, Lady Constance?" "Oh, yes," she replied, "He is exercised in the paddock every morning, and is in fine form." Adrien smiled.