Presently, the fine old armorial gates of the drive which led up to Abbot's Manor were reached,--they were set wide open, this having been done according to Mrs. Spruce's orders. A woman at the lodge came hastily out, but the cab had passed her before she had time to see who was in it. Up through the grand avenue of stately oaks and broad-branching elms, whose boughs, rich with the budding green, swayed in the light wind with a soft rustling sound as of sweeping silks on velvet, the unostentatious vehicle jogged slowly,--it was a steady ascent all the way, and the driver was duly considerate of his animal's capabilities. At last came the turn in the long approach, which showed the whole width of the Manor, with its ancient rose-brick frontage and glorious oaken gables shining in the warm afternoon sunlight,--the old Tudor courtyard spreading before it, its grey walls and paving stones half hidden in a wilderness of spring blossom. Here, too, the gates were open, and the one-horse fly made its lumbering and awkward entrance within, drawing up with a jerk at the carved portico. The young person in blue serge jumped out, purse in hand. "Ten shillings, I think?" she said; but before the driver could answer her, the great iron-clamped door of the Manor swung open, and a respectable retainer in black stood on the threshold. "Oh, will you pay the driver, please?" said the young lady, addressing this functionary; "He says his fare is ten shillings. I daresay he would like an extra five shillings for himself as well," and she smiled--"Here it is!" She handed the money to the personage in black, who was no other than the former butler to Sir Morton Pippitt, now at the Manor on temp'ry service,' and who in turn presented it with an official stateliness to the startled fly-man, who was just waking up to the fact that his fare, whom he had considered as a person of no account whatever, was the actual mistress of the Manor. "Drive out to the left of the court," said the butler imperatively; "Reverse way to which you entered." The submissive Jehu prepared to obey. The young person in blue serge smiled up at him. "Good afternoon!" said she. "Same to you, mum!" he replied, touching his cap; "And thank ye kindly!" Whereat, his stock of eloquence being exhausted, he whipped up his steed to a gallop and departed in haste for the 'Mother Huff,' full of eagerness to relate the news of Miss Vancourt's arrival, further embellished by the fact that he had himself driven her up from the station, 'all unbeknown like.' Miss Vancourt herself, meanwhile, stepped into her ancestral halls, and stood for a moment, silent, looking round her with a wistful, almost pathetic earnestness.