"Esmeralda, you're an _Object_! Look at the dust on your skirt. You've not half brushed it, and everything is hanging the wrong way. It's a perfect disgrace you look, to ride out with any man!" "I'm delighted to hear it! That's just my intention," replied the young lady, tugging the disreputable skirt still further awry, and nodding her beautiful head, with an air of mysterious amusement. The blue serge had a smudge of white all down one side, which looked suspiciously as if the powder-box had been spilt over it. A seam gaped open and showed little fragments of thread still sticking to the cloth. If Esmeralda's intention was to look disreputable, she had certainly accomplished her object; and when the stables were reached she took care to place herself conspicuously, so that her father's eyes must of necessity rest upon her. "I'm going to ride to Roskillie with you, dad! It's a fine morning, and I thought you would be the better of my company." "That's a good girl!" cried the Major cheerily; then his brow puckered, and he stared uneasily at the untidy figure. He was so unnoticing about clothes that it required a good deal to attract his attention, but surely there was something wrong about the girl's get-up to-day? He kept throwing uneasy glances towards her while the horses were brought out, and Esmeralda strolled about in a patch of sunshine, and picked her steps gingerly over the muddles, like a model of fastidious care. She sprang to the saddle, light as thistledown, and curved her graceful throat with a complacent toss, as the groom smoothed her skirt, bringing the white stain into full prominence. "You want dusting!" said the Major curtly, and a brush was brought from the stable, and scrubbed vigorously up and down, with the result that the surface of the cloth was frayed and roughened, though there was no appreciable removal of the stain. "It doesn't seem as if it would come out, does it? but there are plenty more further on," said Esmeralda innocently. "Have a try at another, Dennis!"--but the Major motioned the man away with a hasty gesture. "Leave the rag alone--it's past dusting! Is that the best habit you have to your back?" he cried testily, and the dark eyes looked into his with angelic resignation. "It was a very good habit--six years ago! That's as good as twelve, for we've worn it in turns ever since. The bodice is the least thing in the world crinkly, for I'm broader than Bridgie, and stretch it out, and then it goes into creases on her figure. We might try washing the skirt to take out the stains, and then it would be clean, if the colour _did_ run a bit! Ride round by the back roads, dear, and I'll keep behind, and not disgrace you!"