"Many thanks for your letter and all your news. I don't doubt that you're working wonders in my household. I shall be duly grateful on my next visit home. Out here, my house and estate, and children all seem vague and shadowy. But I like to hear of you all, so keep me posted with details. You seem pretty experienced with children, so I'll leave you to deal with Ruffie's education. I'm sure the little scamp won't be too industrious. I have had the misfortune to damage my boat rather seriously in a storm we came into two days ago, so we're going on shore for repairs. This will delay me. I am glad you have made Malcolm Dermot's acquaintance. He and I have been pals for many a long year. I really don't understand why any awkward question may crop up. You have married a rover—and you knew it when you did it. I have known other married men who are both travellers and big game hunters. It is not unusual. Perhaps our speedy marriage was unusual—I even acknowledge a good bit of selfishness on my side; but you seem to be getting some degree of comfort and enjoyment out of it, and I hope you'll continue to do so. "And tell the kind friends who ask inquisitive questions, that you have a selfish brute of a husband who is not over-fond of children's racket, and doesn't take to domesticity, but that you are not pining for his society, and prefer to be without him. Isn't this the plain truth? Let them swallow it, and say no more. Tell the youngsters, I'll bring them back a parrot according to Ruffie's request, but as to whether it will talk or not is at present unknown to me. "Yours, "JUSTIN H." Anstice read this first letter from her husband, and drew a little sigh. She had not expected more from him; and yet it left her with the feeling that he was farther away than ever. Then she folded up the letter and put it into her Davenport. Her occupation for the day crowded out all thoughts of an indifferent husband. She had at last got a satisfactory wicker chair made for Ruffie, and this was going to be strapped on to the steady old cob, who was a mountain pony, bred and born amongst the Fells, and consequently surefooted. Ruffie's delight and astonishment when the cob was brought round to the door for his inspection was very great. Brenda carried him down, and then soft cushions were put into the little chair, and he took his first ride down the drive. He declared it did not shake him at all and wanted to go up the Fells then and there, but Anstice would not allow that. A week later, when he was found to be no worse for the motion, she and the little girls took him up the lane at the back of the house and up the nearest Fell. The little boy's joy was unbounded, and when he finally reached the summit of rather a small height, he sat looking out at the views below him with rapturous eyes.