We arrived at Wyncombe one lovely June afternoon and found our cottage a very delicious place. It was built of wood with a verandah running around it, and the whole hidden in creepers. The little valley was wooded to the top, and in front of the cottage door ran a little brown stream which might have been one of our trout streams at home. There was a small boy of a very martial aspect standing a-straddle in the trellised porch when we arrived, with an unhappy-looking fat puppy pressed tightly to his breast. "Hello!" he hailed us. "Where is Old Soldier? This is a soldier dog, Moustache is his name. He has to learn to shoulder arms, but he always rolls over." "Old Soldier didn't come this time, Jacky," said I. "You are to come to see him in Ireland. But this is his son, who is also a soldier." "He has got no medals," said Jacky, as he shook hands gravely. "Are you greedy at your dinner, or will you not have your hands washed?" From this speech I learned that Jacky had been insubordinate, and had perhaps lost a stripe or two since coming to Wyncombe. Half the cottage was allotted to us, and I discovered very soon that so excellent was Mrs. Vincent's discipline that even Master Jacky respected our frontier, and was only in evidence when desired--admirable small boy! However, Lance capitulated to Jacky the minute he saw him, so I expected to have him tolerably often in evidence. Freda came over to dinner in a pretty black gauze dinner-gown, and looked very fair and sweet and comely. She brought a message from Mrs. Des Vœux that she thought we would be happier together this one evening, but that she hoped we would come over and dine the next day, and excuse her not calling first. My sister was delightfully changed for the better. She seemed brimming over with quiet happiness, and I could not wonder. After her hard and disillusioning experiences of the world, after the stony streets of London, it must have been indeed delicious to be in this quiet place, surrounded by everything that kindness and consideration could give. After dinner we sat in the verandah and talked. Lance romped on the grass with Jacky and Moustache, who seemed a very jolly little puppy when he wasn't half stifled by his master's loving embraces. However, as Freda said, a dog will stand a good deal done in the way of love. Mrs. Vincent had gone over to keep Mrs. Des Vœux company, so we had a long quiet comfortable chat, lounging in our rocking-chairs, and with nothing to disturb us but the singing of the birds and the shrill laughter of Freda's boy. I had a long story to tell her, the details of all that had been happening to us at Brandon. Then when I had done, I had to hear all about her since she came to Wyncombe.