Miss Richards was on the friendliest terms with the tenants of her old home, and I could see that they were pleased to welcome all the friends whom she might bring with her to see the wonders of the Castle. But it was Mrs. Higgins who “did the honours” of the picture gallery, when we went thitherward after tea one lovely afternoon in sum mer shortly after I had come to Thurswell. It was Mrs. Higgins who assumed the rôle of Cicerone and told me all about the pictures, and gave me duodecimo biographies of the originals with all the familiarity that one would expect only from a member of the family. Miss Richards stood by smiling quite pleasantly, even when Mrs. Higgins looked at her, saying something about a pink-coated Captain Richards by Raeburn, and I was disposed to laugh at the comedy of Mrs. Higgins of Lancashire telling Miss Richards of Nethershire something confidential about Captain Richards, her great-granduncle! I admired the picture, but not nearly so much as I did the coolness of Mrs. Higgins and the kindly toleration of Miss Richards. “And this is the portrait by Thornhill of Miss Esther Richards, who afterwards married General Forster, who took part in the American War, and to avenge the murder of poor André--he called it murder, though, of course, some people think that André was really a spy,” said Mrs. Higgins. “Doesn't it seem strange to think of that sweet little girl-” “Oh, pardon me,” cried Miss Richards, “you are not quite right. That is Lotitia Richards by North-cote. She married Sir Charles Brewster, who was killed at Waterloo.” “Oh no,” said the tenant, “you are quite wrong. I assure you that this is Esther. Your Lotitia is the girl in Oriental costume in the library.” “My dear Mrs. Higgins, how could I possibly be mistaken over such a matter?” said Miss Richards. “My dear mother told me how Letty Brewster came here one day when she was eighty-two years of age, and how pathetic it was to see her stand before her own picture done when a girl; but my mother said that really some of the charm of the picture--she had lovely eyes, as you can see--was apparent on the face of the dear old lady of eighty-two.” “I am afraid that you are mixing this picture with another,” said Mrs. Higgins quite good-naturedly. And then Miss Richards gave a laugh. “We had better pass this picture and look at one which could not possibly be mixed up with another,” she said. “I hope you will agree with me in believing that this is Hoppner's Lady Charlotte Richards, Mrs. Higgins.” “Oh yes, you are quite right about _that one_,” said Mrs. Higgins as graciously as a governess commending the right answer given by an errant pupil. “Oh yes, that is Lady Charlotte. I believe she became pious and wrote a hymn. You have heard that, I suppose, Miss Richards?” “I do believe I did,” replied Miss Richards. “In fact, I have the tiny volume of hymns which she wrote. She was under the influence of Lady Huntingdon.”