"I understood you to say," he continued, without giving either of them time to reply, "that you had never seen Henley at the regatta-time. But it is a thing you ought to see—it is the prettiest sight in England—it is perfectly unique—there is nothing else like it in the world. And then they make those house-boats so comfortable; it is simply a small floating home; or, on the other hand, you can sit outside, and be in the very midst of all the fun. There is no scramble—no crowd—no hustling—so far as we are concerned; and we shall have our own cook and steward. If you do not care to stay the whole week, we could go down on Tuesday afternoon—the races begin on Wednesday—and remain for the illuminations and fireworks on Friday night. It would be awfully good-natured of you both; of course I could not think of going down and occupying a house-boat by myself. Now what do you say, Miss Bethune?—I appeal first to you." "Yes, what do you say, Maisrie?" the old man said, seeing that his granddaughter hesitated; and then he added with a condescending smile: "A question of dress, is it? I have heard that the costumes at Henley are rather extravagant." "Oh, I assure you, no," the young man protested (he would have sworn that the sky was pea-green if that would have helped.) "They are quite simple summer dresses—light in colour, of course—oh, yes—but quite plain and simple: who would take gorgeous gowns to go boating?" "Very well, very well," Mr. Bethune said, with an easy good-nature. "I will answer for both Maisrie and myself: we shall be delighted. Let us know the conditions; let us know what may be expected of us; we are old travellers and ready for anything. And don’t you be over particular about your preparations, my young friend; we can rough it; and indeed I’m afraid of late we’ve been falling into somewhat too luxurious ways. Not that I am an anchorite; no—God forbid; if the present moment commends itself, I welcome it; I see no wisdom in schooling one’s self to bear hardships that may not arise. Yes, I have heard of Henley—the Thames in July—the brilliant company—" "It is awfully kind of you," said Vincent, rising, and preparing to go. "I am sure you won’t regret it; it is the very prettiest thing in England. And to-morrow night I will let you know all the arrangements."