“I don't see why father should ever know anything about it, he has taken that horrid old Joseph with him, he never says more than a few words to the footman, and he never sees the cook or housemaid. We have all to-morrow to get the house straight.” “It is not certain that he is going to stay the night in London.” “Yes it is. Don't fidget. Have you got the wine out? We should have a dozen of champagne. Mind you make no mistake; '80, that is the wine you must get. Jimmy is most particular what he drinks, and Alfred has the most frightful headaches if he drinks anything but the very best. I hope he'll find the '80 all right.” “That's father's favourite wine; you mean to say that he won't miss it? Then the port and Burgundy and cherry brandy--I won't take the responsibility.” “Nobody asked you. All you have to do is to return the keys to Maggie that you took from her.” “I don't think father will be as angry as you think, Grace; besides there's no drawing back now the invitations are out. I think it would be better to tell him that we had a few friends in for tennis. We needn't tell him who was there--we will suppress the name of the Southdown Road people; and we can take the bottles out from the back. The wine won't be missed for a long time, and we will invent some better excuse before then. We will say that two bottles were drunk at this party and three at that; and further than that we can't remember.” “And what about the peaches? There are only a few ripe, and Sally says she'll want them all. Father has been looking forward to them for weeks and weeks.” “He'll have to do without them; if he wants peaches, he had better bring some down from Covent Garden.” A knock was heard at the door. “Please Miss, Mr. Escott is in the drawing-room.” “Tell him I will be downstairs in a moment,” cried Maggie. “Now off you go, my Lady Mount Rorke,” said Sally, who had already begun to regret her promises, and to consider if she had not better break them. Maggie asked him what train he came down by, then she called the dog; “Come here, my beautiful boy, come and kiss me.” The bull-dog growled and wagged his tail. “He won't hurt you; 'tis only his way of talking.” Maggie laughed, and they walked out on the green sward. “I suppose you've been to a great many balls this season?” “I don't know that I have; a few, perhaps. I am glad to get away from town. I like no place like this. I don't know if it is the place or the associations.” “You are used to much finer places. I can fancy Mount Rorke--the lakes and the mountains; somehow I think I can see it. Isn't it strange, there are certain things and places you can realise so much better than others, and for no very understandable reason?”