Upon this Miss Pimpernel laughed shyly, and Mr. Pimpernel smiled; and Edgar, seeing it was expected of him, would have smiled too had he not encountered Clare’s stormy countenance, without a gleam of light upon it. It embarrassed him sadly, poor fellow; for of course he did not want to wound his sister, and yet he could not be uncivil. “I am such a stranger in my own country,” he said, “that I really don’t know where the Red House is. I know only the village, and nothing more.” “It is the sweetest village,” said Mrs. Pimpernel. “We were so glad to hear that there were no building sites to be given, though, of course, in one way it must have been a sacrifice. It is selfish of us, because we have been so fortunate as to secure the only house; but the moment you begin to build villas you spoil the place. It never would have been the same sweet old place again. Mr. Pimpernel drives over every morning to Farnham Green, the station. Of course, he could not do it unless he was able to afford horses; but we _are_ able to afford them, I am glad to say. I don’t know if you have ever remarked his Yankee waggon, with two beautiful bright bays? I hope I am not horsey, which is very unladylike, but I do like to see a fine animal. It is next to a pretty girl, my husband always says.” “The only thing wanting in Arden is a little society,” said Mr. Pimpernel; “and I hope, Mr. Arden, that your happy return, and the new life you must bring with you, will change all that. We hoped you would perhaps dine with us on Monday week? Young Newmarch is coming, the Earl’s eldest son, a very nice young fellow--quite a man of his century; but of course you must know him better than I do; and we expect some young Oxford men with my son, who is at Christchurch. My wife wanted to write, but I think it is always best to settle such things by word of mouth.” “I am afraid Miss Arden may think all this a little abrupt,” said Mrs. Pimpernel, taking up the strain when her husband paused. “Of course, if it had not been for the change, and Mr. Arden coming, as it were, fresh to the place, it was not our part to call first; but all this last year I have done nothing but think of you, so lonely as you must have been. I have said to Alice a hundred times--‘How I wish I could go and call upon that poor dear Miss Arden.’ But I never knew whether you would like it. I am sure, many and many a time, when I have seen all my own young ones so merry about me, I have thought of you. ‘If we could only have her here, and cheer her up a little,’ I used to say----” “It was kind of you to think of my sister. I am very much obliged to you,” said Edgar, warmly. Clare made a little bow, and after her brother had spoken murmured something vaguely under her breath.