"Yes; the youngest boy is only sixteen." "And he never spends an evening at home?" "I've not known him to do so for twenty years. Sing the 'Health to King Charles,' dear." I sat down at the piano, and sang as I was bid. We were stanch loyalists from tradition, and my list of Stuart songs was so long that I had sung scarcely half of it when the clock struck nine, and rapid wheels came over the pavements. Opposite our door the horse slipped, and we heard the instantaneous lash singing in the night air and descending unmercifully on the poor animal. An immense stamping and rearing ensued. "That is Erle, sure enough," my grandfather said, going to the window. I followed him, and lifted the shade in time to see Mr. Erle standing in the trampled snow at the horse's head, patting him as gently as a woman could have done. In a moment he nodded to his servant, and watched him drive round the corner before turning to our door. He came in quickly, exquisitely dressed, and courteous, with the beautiful old manner they cannot teach us now. After the first words, my grandfather said, with a superb affectation of seriousness, "The merciful man is merciful to his beast." Mr. Erle looked up, with a bright laugh. "So you heard our little dispute? The old fellow bears me no malice, you may be sure; he knows that I never sulk." "Perhaps he would like it a little better if you did," I said. "Not at all. He respects me for my quick ways with him." I shook my head doubtingly, and then, as if in defence of his theory, he said: "Did I ever tell you of Lillie Burton? Her animals did not mind a little discipline." My grandfather laughed. "Oddly enough, we had laid a plot to make you tell that charming history this very evening," he said. "Don't laugh about it," Mr. Erle answered. "I cannot tell you how vividly the sight of Miss Thesta's picture brought back the old time to me." "I beg your pardon," the other said, bowing. At that moment a servant came in with wine, placing the Japanese waiter with the old gilded bottle and glasses at my grandfather's elbow on the table. He poured out three glasses, and said, very simply: "We will have our own old way to-night, Erle, while you tell your old story, and drink as our fathers did, not vile alcohols, but the good fruit of the vine. Remember, Thesta, I leave you all my wine, on condition that you drink it, and never let a drop of whiskey come into your house." "I promise," I said, and sat down at his feet. "Perhaps you have heard of Lillie Burton?" Mr. Erle began. I had a confused idea that the name of his wife was Lillie; but it was so confused that I answered, frankly, "No, I never heard of her at all." "She is not Lillie Burton now," he went on with a sigh; "but I must begin at the beginning. It is a real horse story, which will tell in its favor with you, I am sure." "Yes, indeed," I answered, with enthusiasm, and then he began anew.