"I prefer Tennyson," replied Eunice, in a judicial tone, "but I feel there are certain things one must read some time, and mother says that I might as well read them now, while I have the books. Some time," and here she sighed, "we may have to break up our home, and that might mean packing away all our books; so it's well to 'make hay while the sun shines,'" she concluded with a bright smile that was in marked contrast with the sigh of a moment before. In the meantime Amy, in looking over some of the books, gave an exclamation of surprise; she had opened a large Bible, on the fly-leaf of which was written "Audrey Balfour, Her book." "There is something very familiar in that name," she cried, "Audrey Balfour, and yet for the moment I can't recall any one to whom it belongs." "It's a family name," said Eunice, "and I've always wished that it had been given to me, for there has always been an Audrey in the family for each generation until now." At last supper was announced, and if any of the party had lacked appetite, the sight of the long table, with its delicate china and old-fashioned silver and glass, would have been an inspiration. The silver spoons, to be sure, were very, very thin, and the cups and saucers were not without cracks, and here and there showed other imperfections; but these things only emphasized the fact that silver and china were really old; and the large silver dish, heaped with great strawberries, was of a style that Mrs. Redmond said would make it almost worth its weight in gold to a collector. "I am so sorry," said Mrs. Airton, politely, "that Miss Martine is not with you. I have seen her passing two or three times, and she is a particularly attractive girl." "She is indeed very attractive," responded Mrs. Redmond, "and on this account we regret her occasional wilfulness; she had planned a ride to the Bay Shore and we could not induce her to give it up. But she wished me to thank you for her invitation, and she said that if she possibly could, she would be here in time for tea; but it seems now as if she has been unable to carry out this part of her plan." "Oh, if she really goes to the shore," interposed Mrs. Gray, "I am sure she will hardly be back in Annapolis before dark. It's a long ride, and I only hope she doesn't find the road too hard." "Martine is a good horsewoman; her father told us that we might trust her on any horse, and had I not known this, I should have hesitated to let her go." "She did not go alone, I hope," said Mrs. Airton, anxiously. "Oh, no; she consented rather reluctantly to an escort, and from the stable they sent a Mr. Frazer, an elderly man, who promised to look after her." "Mr. Frazer!" Eunice laughed as she uttered the name. "Well, if he's on his own horse and if Miss Martine keeps beside him, she'll certainly have a slow, safe ride." CHAPTER XII IN THE FOG