Sir Alexander opened the door into the hall; we followed him with one accord. What a sight met our eyes! There stood Colonel Witherington, with his hand on Peter's shoulder, the pair of them shaking with laughter. "Go back, my dears," said Sir Alexander, with a wave of his hand towards us. With the true instinct of the British pater-familias, he was eager to send his women-kind away from anything unusual or improper; but Mysie's curiosity was too great--besides, Colonel Witherington was now dragging the footman forward. [Illustration: "'COME AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF, YOU RASCAL.'"] "Come and explain yourself, you rascal. Why, Mysie"--the name slipped out unawares--"don't you see who it is? It's your cousin Fred." An explosion of dynamite would have less upset the worthy baronet than this announcement. He stood speechless and staring; Lady Sutherland looked annoyed and incredulous. As for me, I cannot describe my feelings; I was in a perfect whirl. Mysie was the first to recover from her astonishment. She joined in the laughter of the two men. "How like you, Fred, to do a thing like that! Do come and tell us all about it. I thought you were at the Cape. Still, that loud guffaw sounded familiar. But how different you look without your moustache--and your hair, too! Well, I should never have known you!" "The want of a moustache made me recognise him," said Colonel Witherington. "He was just such a beardless boy when he joined the regiment. I noticed the likeness at dinner; and when I got a chance of looking into his eyes I was sure----" "I call it most ungentlemanlike--most unpardonable," began Sir Alexander, who had now recovered his speech. "I did it for a lark," said the supposed footman, in a hearty, cheerful voice. "I wondered what you really thought of the good-for-nothing nephew, and how you would receive him if he returned like the prodigal son in the parable." "It was hardly fair on us, Fred," said Lady Sutherland's gentle voice. "Perhaps not, dear Aunt Margaret; but _you_ would never be found wanting." Mysie stepped back a few paces and took hold of my arm; her cousin went on: "Talk of Her Majesty's uniform, these togs beat all. I never was so gorgeously attired in my life." Sir Alexander was too angry to endure this any longer. He marched off to the smoking-room, and tried to soothe his nerves with the fragrant weed. The rest of us went back into the drawing-room. "Do lock the door," whispered Mysie to Colonel Witherington; "the servants will be coming in."