"Ha! ha! ha!" Rex pranced round the hall in wild delight. "Look at that now! Reginald Freer, Esquire, peacemaker and housemaid-waitress. Apply--Brathey Manor--" "What in the world is the matter? Has everyone gone mad? How am I supposed to write in this uproar?" Mr Bertrand appeared at his study door with an expression of long-enduring misery, whereat there was a general stampede, and the house subsided into silence. CHAPTER TWELVE. VISITORS ARRIVE. Whitsuntide fell in the beginning of June, and as Hilary went a tour of inspection round the house and grounds, she was proudly conscious that everything was looking its very best. The rooms were sweet with the scent of flowers; the open doors and windows showed a vista of well-kept lawn, and in the distance the swelling height of mountains, beautiful with that peculiar rich, velvet green which can be seen in no other country in the world. Who would pause to notice the deficiencies of curtain and carpet, when they could look out of the window and see such a scene as that? As for the garden itself, it was a miracle of beauty, for the flowering trees were still in bloom, while the wild roses had thrown their branches high over the tall fir trees, and transformed the drive into a fairy bower. Hilary had special reasons for wishing everything to appear at its best to-day, for two visitors were expected to arrive by the afternoon train--Miss Carr, and the crippled author, Henry Rayner himself. Half- a-dozen times she made a round of inspection, each time finding some trifling alteration or addition to make to her preparations. At last, however, all was ready: the tea-tray laid in the drawing-room, her own white dress donned, a bunch of roses pinned in her belt; and there was nothing left but to wait in such patience as she could command, while Lettice and Norah looked at her slyly and exchanged glances of approval. "Doesn't she look nice?" they whispered; and, indeed, Hilary was looking her best this afternoon, with the pretty flush in her cheeks, and her eyes alight with excitement. A few minutes after six o'clock the fly drove up to the door, and there sat Miss Carr, in her fashionable London bonnet, and, beside her, Mr Rayner, pale and delicate as ever, but looking around him with an air of intense delight in the beautiful surroundings. Mr Bertrand was on the front seat, and Hilary came forward to do the honours with much less assurance than she would have shown six months earlier. "My dear, good child, have you any tea? I am perishing of thirst!" cried Miss Carr loudly. She was so bustling and matter-of-fact, that she was the best remedy in the world for shyness; and Hilary led the way to the drawing-room with recovered equanimity. She had only had time for a quick hand-shake with the other visitor, but the glance which had been exchanged between them was delightful in its memory of past meetings--its augury of good times to come.