The sleepy mid-day silence of the rose garden was broken by the sound of wheels, but no flush of pleasure reddened Georgie's cheek as she heard the bustle of her husband's arrival. Just as once before big Reginald Haggard strode down the gravel walk, so once more Georgie now saw him advancing in the blaze of sunlight, but not alone. With him walked her father, with a cheerful face, while on his arm hung the light-hearted Lucy, all smiles and happy blushes, her ringing musical laugh joyously heralding his advent. But Haggard seemed to have no eyes for any one but Georgie; his face wreathed in smiles, he hurriedly advanced to greet her, and then for an instant nature triumphed. Georgie burst into tears, and rushing into his arms, husband and wife were locked in a long embrace. But the momentary oblivion of her trouble ceased when Georgie left her husband's arms and caught her cousin's eye. Lucy's finger was pressed to her lips. What the gesture meant young Mrs. Haggard knew only too well. "If you don't moderate your transports you will commit the unpardonable crime, Reginald, for you will wake the baby," said Lucy. It was too late. The child, with a gentle sigh, opened his eyes and stared around him. But Haggard, absorbed in his first meeting with his wife, did not seem to observe him. Lucy snatched up the little bundle of lace and embroideries, and exhibited him triumphantly. "Have you no eyes, Reginald?" she cried. "Pray reserve some, at least, of your transports for the object of universal adoration." As Haggard gazed on the pair he thought they made a pretty picture, with their background of foliage. "So that's the little chap," he said carelessly. "And is that all you have to say to him?" cried Lucy. "No wonder you make him cry, Reginald," for the child, at the sight of a stranger, had burst into a succession of sturdy yells, which, at all events, showed the strength of his lungs. But even when a man is confronted for the first time with his firstborn, he probably does not manifest the amount of interest which is expected by the female mind. The little Lucius was speedily consigned to his nurse's arms; she disappeared with him down a shady walk, carefully protecting, as is the way with French nurses, the child's complexion and her own by means of a big sunshade. "Come, uncle," said Lucy. "We have to prepare the roast veal to celebrate the prodigal's return. Besides, Georgie and Reginald must have hundreds of things to tell each other; _we_ shall only be treated to the second edition of a gentleman's travels in America. I suppose the first will be for private circulation only. I fear Georgie won't have much to say in return, for our dull life at the château will have little to interest a man." This was said trippingly upon the tongue, but it was said with intention, and the look which accompanied it caused poor Mrs. Haggard to drop her eyes, while a slight flush suffused her cheeks.