That very evening, notwithstanding her supposed fatigue, the little world of Farafield was roused to welcome Lucy. The rector and his wife, going out for a drive in the cool of the evening, drew up their pony at the door, and left a card and their kind regards, and hoped Miss Trevor was not tired with her journey; and a little later, when Lucy and Jock were preparing to stroll out as they had been in the habit of doing, upon the common, they were stopped by a visit from Mrs. Rushton and her son and daughter. “We always come out after dinner in the hot weather,” the visitor explained, “and it is so delightful to have an object for our walk. I hope you have had a good rest, my dear. What a pleasure,” said Mrs. Rushton, taking Lucy’s hands in hers, and looking at her with enthusiasm, “to see you at home again and looking so well!” Lucy was confused by the warmth and _effusion_ of this unexpected greeting. Her guardian’s wife had never taken much notice of her in the old days; but she was pleased at the same time, for affection is always pleasant, and it was agreeable to find that she had more friends than she was aware of. Raymond, of whom she remembered nothing, except that she had seen him at the railway station, was an ordinary young man, still in his morning suit, by license of the summer, and the after-dinner walk; and wholly undistinguishable from any other young man in that universal garb. He said, “How d’ye do?” and taking his right hand out of his pocket, presented it to her, not without embarrassment. Lucy gave it him back at once with a great inclination to laugh. She felt herself a great deal older, and more experienced than Raymond, though he was two-and-twenty and had taken his degree. “I hope you will not find Farafield dull,” said Mrs. Rushton; “we must do what we can to make you like us, Lucy. Have you seen a good deal of society in town? Oh, I know you could not go out; but Lady Randolph is always having company. I suppose you would meet her nephew, Sir Thomas. I hear he is expected at the Hall.” “Yes,” said Lucy. “He is on his way to Scotland. He came down here with us to-day.” “Oh, he is on his way to Scotland? Isn’t this a little out of the way to Scotland, Ray? I know when _we_ went we had to go a hundred miles round, your father said, to get to that big junction; but we can’t always calculate on Sir Thomas. He is a gay deceiver; with that jolly laugh of his, didn’t you quite fall in love with him, Lucy? I always say he is the most dangerous man I know.” “I like him very much,” Lucy said. “And so does Ray. He is quite captivating to young people. He has always been so kind to Ray. One forgets the little stories that are current about him when one comes under the spell. Did you like his aunt equally well, Lucy? Opinions are divided on that score.” “She was very kind to me,” said Lucy; “no one ever took so much care of me. She did not talk of it, but one felt all round one--”