“Better keep to the old name,” said Olivia. “Why, it seems only the other day we used to play cricket together.” “Yes,” he said, wistfully. “I suppose you’d rather die than play now?” “Much rather,” she said, laughing. “And besides, look at my long dress! But tell me all about yourself and where you have been and what you’ve seen.” “All?” he said, with a smile. “All right; but perhaps we’d better sit down, for it will take some time; say three weeks. Oh, we had an awfully high old time! Been everywhere. And everybody and everything were so jolly, don’t you know. But I’m very glad to get back to the governor and”--he glanced up shyly at the lovely face so intent upon and absorbed in him--“and all of you. I wanted to come up last night after dinner, but my father didn’t seem to care about my leaving him even for an hour or two. And you are all well? You can’t tell how jolly it is to come back to the old place. It’s all just the same. No, it isn’t, by the way. What on earth is that big red place, like an asylum gone æsthetically mad, on the hill?” “The Maples, do you mean?” said Olivia, her face crimsoning for one instant, ever so slightly. “That is Mr. Bartley Bradstone’s new house. You don’t admire it?” “Good heavens! it is like a blot of red with----” He stopped and colored. “I beg your pardon, Olivia; perhaps he’s a friend of yours.” “Oh, we know him,” she said, carelessly. “Isn’t it ugly; isn’t it? But that is the only change, Bertie; you will find us just the same, and very, very glad to see you.” “Isn’t that just how you used to speak in the old times?” he exclaimed, enthusiastically. “Now you’re the little girl with the long, black legs----” He stopped and stammered, and Olivia laughed. Suddenly the two dogs set up a violent barking, and the two young people, hurrying to see the cause, saw a huge mastiff with a broken chain attached to his collar traveling down the road toward them. It is needless to say that neither Olivia nor Bertie was alarmed; but the dogs were very much upset at the terrific apparition, and, yelping, half-indignantly, half-affrightedly, made a noise loud enough to rouse the sleepers in Hawkwood churchyard. “Is this one of your dogs?” asked Bertie. “(Be quiet, you two! Quiet, Fritz; shut up, Folly!) It has broken loose and followed you, I suppose?” “It isn’t mine,” commenced Olivia; but before she--remembering Mr. Sparrow’s story--could explain, a tall gentleman opened the gate of The Dell, and came toward them, calling “Leo! Leo!” The dog stopped instantly, and the owner seemed about to go back with him, when, as if reluctantly, he came forward and raised his hat.