"I think even papa would confess I had some idea of colour if he saw me to-day," said Mrs. Lobyer, as she mounted a little ottoman and surveyed herself in a Venetian mirror framed in the cedar-panelling. "I discovered the value of greys and scarlets from one of his pictures. I'm sure I don't know why I should have taken pains with my dress this morning: but one must amuse oneself somehow or other." Mrs. Lobyer smothered a little yawn with the fingers of her pearl-grey gloves, and went to one of the windows whence there was to be seen a sunlit winter landscape, with all the varying beauties of light and shadow playing upon hill and dale, and wood and water, which made the prospect from the south front of Pevenshall Place one of the finest views in the North Riding. Cecil joined her friend a few minutes afterwards, and the two ladies went out upon the terrace, where they met Mr. Lobyer, who was hurrying towards the steps leading to the carriage-drive with a railway rug on his arm. "You are going away?" asked Flo, politely. "Yes. I find I must run to Manchester this morning. I shall be back in time for dinner to-morrow." "You will travel on Christmas-day?" exclaimed Flo, with a slight elevation of her eyebrows. "Why not on that day as well as any other?" said Mr. Lobyer coolly. "Do you think I am to stop my business because people choose to over-eat themselves with beef and pudding on the twenty-fifth of December? Good-bye, Flo: I've only half an hour for the drive." The millionaire brushed his wife's forehead with his bushy moustache, and then ran down the steps, where an American gig with a high-stepping horse and a miniature tiger were in attendance upon him. In this airy equipage Mr. Lobyer was borne along the avenue as on the wings of the winter wind; and, seen from a distance, presented an appearance of high-stepping horse, man, and high wheels, without any superfluous encumbrance in the way of vehicle. "And now let us enjoy ourselves and have some nice talk," said Flo, when she had stood for a few moments watching her vanishing lord and master with eyes which did not ever express that spurious kind of interest called curiosity. "Your bonnet is very pretty. How do you like my hat?" After this lively commencement the conversation flagged a little. When people deliberately set themselves to talk, they are apt to be seized with a kind of mental paralysis, which deprives them, for the time being, of the faculty of intelligent speech. The two ladies walked briskly up and down the long stone-terrace, and a delicate flush deepened in Mrs. Lobyer's cheeks, and heightened the brilliancy of her eyes. The great clock in the quadrangle had struck twelve as Mr. Lobyer departed; but that gentleman had scarcely been absent ten minutes when Florence produced her watch, and consulted it as carefully as if she had been one of the Manchester men in whose society Mr. Lobyer delighted.