Dreaming in this manner one night as he lay in bed, he suddenly started with a recollection that his home had once been like the Vernleys. He had seen photographs of "Fourways," and heard his father speak of Tom the groom--a splendid beater or loader. With a thrill of discovery John recalled his inheritance; it explained so much, his joy in these surroundings, the feeling that somehow he was at home again among the Vernleys. This was no new life; it was the old life, the one his father had known. And then John realised how much he had lost. The mention of family misfortune had formerly conveyed nothing to him. He had been quite happy in his home at Amasia. There was nothing wanting, and he had often wondered at his father's ceaseless recollections of "Fourways." Now he realised all that the change to that hard, bright, lonely life in Amasia had meant, and the fuller knowledge clouded the boy's happiness. He would build up the family fortune again and take his father back to "Fourways." So thinking, he fell asleep to dream of his father greeting Tom who came to welcome him back, and somehow in that dream he mingled--but he was not alone. There was Muriel with him, flushed with riding, her cheeks whipped with the wind, her eyes bright with happiness, and her hand, soft and warm, holding his as he helped her down from the saddle. John awoke in the morning to the sound of bells. It was Christmas Day, and springing out of bed he ran to the window that overlooked the drive opposite the church gate. The bells were clamouring merrily and he could see the villagers making their way to the early morning service. Picking up his towel he rushed off to the bathroom, shouted loudly at the shock of the cold shower, dressed quickly and ran downstairs just as the breakfast gong sounded. In the dining room the family was busy opening presents. There were three for him, one from Vernley and two from his host and hostess. With boyish impulse he went up and kissed Mrs. Vernley delightedly. Life was good! CHAPTER IV I On Christmas eve John had noticed another guest at dinner, but he had no opportunity of studying the person, who was addressed as Mr. Steer. The next morning after breakfast, there was a walking party to Holdfast Covert, about three miles, whence a fine view of the surrounding country was obtainable. John asked Vernley all about the stranger, for he was attracted to him by his manner. "The Governor's frightfully keen on Steer," said Vernley. "He's a poet and quite well-known--at least I think so. There's always a mild sensation in the district when Steer's down here." "Have you read his books?" "No, I've seen them of course--they're always prominent in the drawing-room when he comes here. He's not like most of those writing people who everlastingly talk about themselves, and he's a sportsman. He'll start love-thirty with any one on the tennis court and beat 'em."