“We won’t disturb him,” Sophia said. “No, Caroline, let him have his tea. We ought to encourage teetotal drinking in his class. Perhaps Mrs. Sales will let us go round the garden. I am so fond of flowers.” “Come and look at the pigsties,” Francis said to Rose, but, assuring him she had grown too old for pigs, she followed the rest. The walled garden had a beautiful disorder. A grey kitten and a white puppy sat together on the grass, enjoying the sunshine and each other’s company and pretending to be asleep; and though the kitten displayed no interest in the visitors, holding its personality of more importance than anything else, the puppy jumped up, barked, and rushed at each person in turn. Caroline, picking up her skirts and showing the famous Mallett ankle, said, “Go away, dog!” in a severe tone, and the puppy rolled on the grass to show that he did not care and could not by any possibility be snubbed. Under an apple-tree on which the fruit was ripening were two cane chairs, a table, a newspaper and a work-basket. “This is my favourite place,” Mrs. Sales said to Rose. “I hate that drawing-room, and Francis won’t have it touched. But I’ve got a boudoir that’s lovely. He sent an order to the best shop and had it ready for a surprise, so if I’m not out of doors I sit there. Would you like to see it?” “I should, very much,” Rose said. “Then come quickly while the others are eating those plums off the wall.” Rose looked back. “I can’t think what Sophia will do with the stone,” she murmured, smiling her faint smile. Mrs. Sales was puzzled by this remark. “Oh, she’ll manage, won’t she? You don’t want to help her, do you?” “No, I don’t want to help her.” “Come along, then.” Rose saw the boudoir, a little room half-way up the stairs. “It’s Louis something,” said Mrs. Sales, “but all the same, I think it’s sweet, and pink’s my favourite colour. Francis thought of that. I was wearing pink when I first met him.” “I see,” Rose said. “Was that long ago?” “Only three months. I think we both fell in love at the same minute, and that’s nice, isn’t it? I know I’m going to be happy, but I do hope I shan’t be dull. We’re a big family at home. I’m English,” she added a little anxiously, “but my father settled there.” “I don’t think you should be dull,” Rose said. “Everybody in Radstowe will call on you, and there are lots of parties. And then there’s hunting.” “Yes,” said Mrs. Sales. Her eyes left Rose’s face, to return a little wider, a little warier. “Do you hunt too?” “As often as I can. I only have one horse.” “Francis says I am to have two.” “And they will be good ones. He likes hunting and horses better than anything else, I suppose.” “But he mustn’t neglect the farm,” his wife said firmly, and she added slowly, “I don’t know that I need two horses, really. I haven’t ridden much, and there’s a lot to do in the house. I don’t believe in people being out all day.” “Well, you can’t hunt all the year round, you know.”