For the servant entering with a tray has also admitted our woolly friend, who makes for his master and thrusts his nose into his hand with an affectionate whine, his brush wagging like a flail. Roy, too, is restored to his rightful place in society, as his master puts it. One of the first things Roland did when the tide of his misfortunes turned, was to take steps for the recovery of his faithful follower, and Roy's new owner, who was a good-hearted fellow, had refused the somewhat extravagant sum which was offered him for his purchase, and had handed him back at the same price. Roy's exuberant glee on his restoration to his old master was something indescribable. But now he has long been an institution in the Cranston household and is a favourite with everyone, except Johnston, the head-gardener, of whom more anon. The airy mood of the new Squire of Cranston fades as suddenly as it arose. He eyes for a moment the unwelcome missive which he has cast aside, then, as if with an effort, he tears it open. It is only a letter from his mother. "Oh! What is it, darling?" cries Olive anxiously, half starting up. For with a furious imprecation Roland has dashed down the open sheet upon the table, and sits back in his chair, his face ashy white. Only a couple of lines does this letter contain, and they are in his mother's handwriting. "_Since you force me to speak plainly, I will--I can hold no communication with a murderer--a fratricide_." "Roland, tell me what it is. Tell me, darling, and let me share it with you," urges Olive pleadingly. "What cruel thing does she say?" His hand is trembling as it heavily lies upon the open paper, as if to blot out the accusing words. "Nothing but what is evil and ill-conditioned," he answers hoarsely. "See what comes of doing the right thing. It's only her reply to that letter of mine offering to make a settlement upon her. This is the fifth time I've done it, and each time I get more abused than before. One's mother!"