“I think this is an old acquaintance,” said Lady Merrifield as she shook hands, “though perhaps Mysie is grown out of remembrance.” “Oh, yes,” said an honest open-faced maiden, eagerly putting out her hand. “Don’t you remember, Miss Prescott, our all staying at Castle Towers? I came with Phyllis Devereux, and she and I took poor Betty Bernard out after blackberries, and she thought it was a mad bull when it was a railway whistle, and ran into a cow-pond, and Cousin Rotherwood came and Captain Grantley and got her out.” Magdalen was smiling and nodding recollection, and added, “It was really one of the boys.” “Oh, yes.” “I thought it was a crazy bull Firing a blunderbuss—” She paused for recollection, and Magdalen went on— “I thought it was a crazy bull Firing a blunderbuss; I looked again, and, lo, it was A water polypus. ‘Oh, guard my life,’ I said, ‘for she Will make an awful fuss.’” “Ah! do you remember that?” cried Mysie. “I have so often tried to recollect what it really was when she looked again. Captain Grantley made it, you know, when we were trying to comfort Betty.” “I remember you and Lady Phyllis said you would go and confess to Mrs. Bernard and take all the blame, and Lord Rotherwood said he would escort you!” “Yes, and Betty said it was no good, for if her mother forgave her ten times over, still that spiteful French maid would put her to bed and say she had no _robe convenable_,” went on Mysie. “But then you took her to your own room, and washed her and mended her, so that she came out all right at luncheon, and nobody knew anything, but she thought that horrid woman guessed and tweaked her hair all the harder for it.” “Poor child, she looked as if she were under a tyranny.” “Have you seen her since?” “No; but Phyllis tells me she has burst forth into liberty, bicycles, and wild doings that would drive her parents to distraction if she dreamt of them.” “How is Lady Phyllis? Did I not hear that the family had gone abroad for her health?” “Oh yes, and I went with them. They all had influenza, and were frightened, but it ended in our meeting with Franceska Vanderkist, the very most charming looking being I ever did see; and Ivinghoe had fallen in love with her when she was Miranda, and he married her like a real old hero. Do you remember Ivinghoe?” “No; I suppose he was one of an indistinguishable troop of schoolboys.” “I remember Lord Rotherwood’s good nature and fun when he met the bedraggled party,” said Magdalen, smiling. “That is what every one remembers about him,” said Lady Merrifield, smiling. “You have imported a large party of youth, Miss Prescott.” “My young sisters,” responded Magdalen; “but I shall soon part with Agatha; she is going to Oxford.” “Indeed! To which College? I have a daughter at Oxford, and a niece just leaving Cambridge. Such is our lot in these days. No, not this one, but her elder sister Gillian is at Lady Catharine’s.”