'Papa, I have a little surprise for you--a letter from Annot Drummond, my cousin; she comes here to-night _en route_ to Earlshaugh, invited by Maud, your sister,' she added to Roland; 'by this time she will be leaving London at Euston.' '"London, that maelstrom of mud and mannikins," as it has perhaps been unjustly stigmatized by George Gilfillan,' said Sir Harry, laughing, 'and she is to be here to-night--that is sudden.' 'But Annot was always a creature of impulse, papa!' 'So some think,' said her father; 'but to me her impulses always seemed to come by fits and starts. However, I shall be delighted to see the dear child.' 'The "dear child" is now nearly eighteen, papa.' 'Heavens--how time runs on!--eighteen--yes.' 'And she and I are to go to Earlshaugh together in October--that is if you can spare me, papa,' added Hester, colouring, and keeping the silver urn between herself and Roland. 'Excellent; I shall make up a little party for the covert shooting, to entertain Skene of Dunnimarle, Jack Elliot of ours, and one or two more, if I can,' said the latter. 'I have been so long away from Earlshaugh; but doubtless dear little Maud and the--the stepmother----' Sir Harry's brow clouded at the name, and Roland paused. 'You did not see Annot when in London?' said Hester. 'No--I had no time--she lived in a part of South Belgravia, rather out of my wanderings,' replied Roland. 'She is a very attractive girl, gentlemen think.' 'Ah,' was the brief response of Roland, intent more on his breakfast than the attractions of Annot Drummond, who was the only child of Sir Harry's favourite sister, a widow, whose slender circumstances compelled her to reside in a small and dull old-fashioned house of the last century in that locality which lies on the borderland of fashionable London, where the narrow windows, the doorways with huge knockers, quaint half-circular fanlights, and link extinguishers in the railings, tell of the days when George III. was King. 'She complains, Roland, that you did not call on her, in passing through London. Poor Annot,' said Hester. 'Our, or rather your, little Cockney cousin, who no doubt loves her love with an A, because he is 'andsome,' laughed Roland. 'How can you mock Annot?' said Hester; 'she is a very accomplished girl--and lovely too--at least all men say so.' 'And you, cousin Hester?' 'I quite agree with them.' Hester was a sincere admirer of beauty, and--perhaps owing to her own great attractions--was alike noble and frank in admitting those of others. 'Her photo is in the album on that side table.' Roland was not interested enough in the matter even to examine it. 'You will be sure to admire her,' added Hester with an arch and even loving smile as she thought of last night and the jewel that had been clasped about her neck.